


I Feel Glorious

by blackpercy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mortal, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Trans Jason Grace, so i deleted and rewrote the theatre kid au!, this is heavily based on nbc's rise, this is rated Teen bc like...it's Spring Awakening lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackpercy/pseuds/blackpercy
Summary: I got a chance to start againOracle Heights is your typical small town. Percy Jackson is the star basketball player, he has a future in the sport, but only if he stays focused. Rachel Elizabeth Dare moved there three years ago, and she's in an ongoing battle with her parents for them to let her stay.When Hestia Burns casts them as the leads in the controversial Spring Awakening, it causes ripples in the previously smooth waters of Oracle Heights. Things start to flip upside down, inside out, until every kid --and adult-- involved has their life changed in one way or another.
Relationships: Apollo & Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Dionysus & Everyone, Hestia & Everyone, Jason Grace & Leo Valdez, Jason Grace & Piper McLean, Jason Grace & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Jason Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Katie Gardner/Malcolm Pace, Mitchell/Malcolm Pace, Percy Jackson & Chris Rodriguez, Percy Jackson & Jason Grace, Percy Jackson & Leo Valdez, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Piper McLean/Leo Valdez, Rachel Elizabeth Dare & Malcolm Pace, Rachel Elizabeth Dare & Piper McLean, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	1. you know i'm back, like i never left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearlselegancies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlselegancies/gifts).



> i'm so excited to start this! i have 6 chapters drafted, but i want to make it to ten before i regularly start posting. please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I never left)

The first rule of musical theatre at Oracle Heights High School? Don’t cast basketball.

The first rule that Hestia breaks? Don’t cast basketball.

* * *

Hestia Burns believes firmly in the power of the silver lining.

There always needs to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Hope is a thing with feathers, as Miss Dickinson would say.

As Hestia walks down the hallways of Oracle Heights, she thanks goodness for her long, thick sweater. It was practically empty in the school. Every student had been ushered out on the week of the pep rally, all the energy and the money being thrown into one of the biggest games of the season.

Hestia doesn’t care much for sports. She’s only in the high school at the hour because of a meeting with the principal. The theatre department needed someone to take over, so Hestia had jumped at the chance to volunteer.

In one of Oracle Heights’ most difficult seasons, hope was the only thing anybody had. Hestia was hoping that this would revitalize her career, restock her passion for teaching.

She switches her messenger bag to her other arm as she pushes open Zeus’ door. The imposing frame of the man glowered at her with folded hands. Even sitting down, he was around her height.

“You were almost late,” he states. 

Hestia nods diplomatically, tucking a black box braid behind her ear and pulling out her organization binder. She watches him, waiting for the principal to speak.

Zeus takes his time pulling out two sheets of paper from his desk drawer. He flips them in front of Hestia impatiently.

“Legally, before anything is finalized, you have to sign this. I suggest you read the terms of agreement on the second document. Sign and you’re good to go.”

Hestia frowns as she signs the documents, quickly reading the terms on the second. “You’re not going to ask me about my experience?”

Zeus scoffs dismissively. “If you don’t have the experience, you have Dionysus to make up for that. He has all the experience in the world.”

A strange defensive emotion brews inside Hestia at Zeus’ passiveness. It was almost as if he didn’t care.

Fifteen minutes later, Hestia is leaving the building. She has many plans for the high school theatre department. She wants to turn it around; make the practically abandoned, stale theatre somewhere that Oracle Heights can be proud of.

Hestia mentally runs over the number of auditions she and Dionysus would go through tomorrow and sighs. 

They have a lot of work cut out for them.

* * *

Practice ends early.

Percy plugs in his earbuds as he leaves the locker room, tossing a smile and a fist bump at Chris, his teammate. 

The thump of the beat in his ears makes a small smile grow on his face as he walks home. The grounding, comforting sound of music floods his ears, blocking out anything the outside world could throw at him.

Various people throw high-fives at him as he walks down the road. The school’s star basketball player and, when swim season arrived, swimming prodigy.

Percy had reserved a small slice of fame in Oracle Heights. Ever since he had won that game against the Titans in freshman year, a team that _nobody_ had thought they would beat. Then Percy had kept on doing it. The team went to championship after championship with Percy and, now, they’re getting ready for one of the biggest games of the season.

Strangely, with all the pressure, Percy isn’t scared. He doesn’t think he  _ can  _ get scared. Basketball is what he knows. Muscle memory becomes greater than nerves after seven years of playing a couple of sports.

As Percy approaches the small townhouse he and his mother call home, he takes a deep breath. Even if he was nervous, he can’t have his mom worrying about him. Brave face on, for Sally.

He unlocks the door and pushes it open, kicking off his shoes at the same time. The lights are off and it’s dark in the house. Nothing he isn’t already used to. As Percy reaches for the light switch, all the lights come on and there’s a burst of confetti.

His mom is standing there with a cake and a wide grin. Percy can’t help but match her expression as he goes to give her a hug.

“What are you doing home early, Mom?” He asks. “I thought you had double shifts at  _ Sally’s  _ today.”

_ And every day _ , he adds silently. Nevertheless, Sally pulls back and cups her son’s face to get a good look at him. Percy notices that she’s still in the light blue and white uniform of her candy store. She probably rushed over here.

“Well, I had to see my son, the best player on the basketball team, right before his biggest game.” Sally starts to cut the cake. It’s frosted blue and with an orange basketball in the middle. Percy is somewhere in between elated and very confused.

He studies his mother’s face. She humming an old 80’s song pleasantly as she carefully cuts the cake into slivers. Her eyes are downcast, it even seems like she’s busying herself on purpose.

“Mom,” he says carefully. Percy’s face pulls as he looks at her. The sour feeling of bad news hangs in the air. “Why are you really home?”

Sally’s green eyes, eyes that he inherited, waver for a moment. She purses her lips as she sets down the knife and leans against the counter. 

“Mom, please,” Percy pleads. Something isn’t right, he can sense it in her entire demeanor. “Just tell me straight up.”

His mother brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Tears shine in her eyes as she meets Percy’s gaze.

“I have to sell the business.”

* * *

Rachel thinks that Apollo has gone nuts.

She frowns her eyebrows as she helps her cousin (or very distant relative) restock the books. He has a wide grin on his face as he proposes something completely outrageous.

“Why would I try out for the school musical?” Rachel scoffs and spots a Great Gatsby copy, flipping it open and settling on a stool. “I’m already busy at the bookstore, art program, and trying to get my parents to even let me stay here.”

_ Here  _ meant Oracle Heights, the small town that Rachel lived with Apollo in. Her parents had sent her here for a “reworking period” three years ago and Rachel had liked it so much she had ended up staying. Unfortunately, they hated that she attended a small town, public high school, and not the prestigious boarding school they had planned. Every year, they tried to make her come back to no avail.

Apollo rolls his eyes as he watches his niece. He ties his dark locs behind his head and snatches the book out of Rachel’s hands.

“You don’t have a life, Rachel. You need to be more socially active to improve your mental development.”

“What parenting book did you get that out of?”

“Hera’s.”

“Of course.”

Rachel continues to sort the books. She enjoys the quiet the few moments she can. Apollo’s bookstore and hang out, The Bright Place, has round, tan light fixtures. The long windows stream light everywhere. Low couches and sandy coffee tables, colorful beanbags, and warm lighting add to the aesthetic. The architecture of the space feels open and welcome to all.

She considers. Rachel hates to admit it, but she actually considers trying out for the musical. But then she remembers that the production is Grease, a show that they’ve done a million times, one that Annabeth Chase always gets the lead role of.

Then she laughs out loud.

* * *

Hestia paces the room. 

Dionysus has raised a skeptical, thin eyebrow at her as he sips a can of Diet Coke. He watches the short woman carefully.

“You want to put on Spring Awakening?” He scoffs at her. Hestia purses her lips. Her box braids are in a high bun today, her french manicured nails are suffering for the day’s events. 

Hestia shoots a glare at the man. “Yes, I want to put on Spring Awakening.”

“It’s a show about sexually repressed teenagers, what the  _ hell  _ made you think this was a good idea?”

Hestia raises her hands to the sky, silently pleading for help. The arms of her oversized sweater droop to her elbows.

“It’s not about the sex or the suicide or any other dark theme in that show,” she explains. “This is the only show that can truly showcase the talent of these kids.”

“These kids can’t even hit an E6,” Dionysus deadpans. Hestia rolls her eyes but he keeps talking. “And there is no way Spring Awakening is ever going to be approved by-”

“I know!” Hestia says shortly, a little too loudly and hysterically to be considered sane. “I know that I’m gonna have to fight like hell- something I am not used to doing, by the way- to get the show on the road. I know!”

Hestia looks Dionysus right in the eye as she says her next bit. She didn’t know how many times she had rehearsed this in the mirror, but it would definitely be worth it.

“So tell me something I don’t know, Dionysus.”

* * *

Percy shakes out his hands.

His basketball uniform, the black and green, is feeling way too tight for some reason. It definitely wasn’t feeling like that five minutes ago, before someone had pushed a microphone into his hand and told him to freestyle something for the pep rally.

Don’t get him wrong, Percy loves freestyling. He also loves performance, as little of it as he does. There was just this exhilarating feeling of nerves he gets right before that makes him want to dance on a rooftop and upchuck everything he’s eaten.

His coach, a tall and soft-eyed man named Chiron nods him on stage. Percy’s legs carry him into the center of the gym, where the school erupts into cheers.

He looks into the crowd for a familiar face. He can only see his dad, Poseidon, and his wife. The woman he left him and his mom for when Percy was a baby. Ever since he was eleven, Poseidon has made many attempts to create a “relationship” with Percy. Honestly, the only relationship Percy wanted was between his father and the child support he was meant to be paying.

_ Ew. _

The unfriendly feeling in his gut at the sight of his father gives him an idea, though, because a blinding grin spreads on Percy’s face as he speaks into the microphone.

“Hello, Oracle Heights!” Percy says, basking in the applause. “ _ Alright, alright, alright! _ ”

Lyrics flow in his brain as he feels the beat. He fills the space with antics, slinging an arm around a marching band kid and walking around like he owned the space. It’s all an act until he begins, until he finally comes alive.

The words pour off his lips straight from his brain. He draws inspiration from the faces, points his finger to the sky, and smirks.

“Shout out to my moms, live your best life!” Percy raps then briefly points to his father before turning his back on him. “Shout out to my pops and his _ trophy wife _ !”

The school  _ oohs _ and Percy watches his father look down in shame. His stepmom (is that what she is?) turns bright red. He continues, feeling a little bit elated by their reactions.

“Now can I get a  _ hell yeah _ from the congregation!” He shouts.

“ _ Hell yeah! _ ”

“I said  _ ‘hell yeah’!  _ ” Percy drops his pitch goofily. 

“ _ Hell yeah! _ ”

The crowd appeals to his beck and call. There are cheers, there is laughing. He riffs once and people go wild, which is good because it was a “spur of the moment” thing. Percy feels the blood pumping in his veins for the first time in forever as he finishes, handing the mic to some random person waiting. His teammates clap him on the back as the dance team does a well-executed routine.

Percy always feels disappointed leaving a stage. There’s a freedom that comes with wearing a mask. It feels like he’s being himself for once and not who his father wants him to be, who his mother needs him to be, and who the entire school thinks he can be.

With a mic, Percy can finally be Percy. Not anybody else, just himself.

Of course, once it's all over, he goes back to being Percy The Dork. Percy The Fake. Percy Who Everybody Thinks He Is.

As he watches the rest of the rally, running out on cue with the rest of his teammates, he feels a pair of eyes on him. He follows the instinct to a short woman wearing an oversized, cream knit sweater. She has dark brown skin and box braids piled high on top of her head. She’s looking at him strangely, like he’s an opportunity. 

Percy elects to ignore her.

* * *

Hestia cringes at the glares of the three men in front of her. 

“Look, gentlemen, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do,” she begins. Percy’s grade of a 47 on an English test glares at the five people in the office. The recipient of such a grade is slouched in a chair and doing his best to inch away from the older man he looks just like.

Chiron interrupts her. “Percy is our star player,” he says slowly. “He can’t afford to fail this.” Poseidon nods his head and Percy looks completely bored with the conversation.

Hestia knows him from her class. She tries to help him as much as she can, grants him extensions on projects, and recommends tutors. He's still wearing his basketball uniform, as he had to come straight from practice to the meeting.

“Well, he did,” Hestia stands her ground. “The consequence of such a grade is athletic probation, we all know this.”

“So  _ fix it _ ,” Zeus thunders. He flips the paper up and down. “Do anything, but he has to participate in this game or else-”

“Are you suggesting I change a student’s grade?” Hestia asks, appalled at such a suggestion. Zeus actually rolls his eyes.

“Of course not. I mean, let him retake it.”

Hestia considers this. Retakes are a privilege granted very carefully. Percy is attentive in her class, but he struggles a lot. She had meant to refer him to a dyslexia specialist, as it was a condition she had herself, but there was always something popping up.

Of course, his performance from the pep rally burns in her brain. The way he came alive was too unique of a gift. 

How can she use this to her advantage?

Hestia takes a deep breath, clearing away the residual annoyance that comes from having a conversation with three men.

“He can retake it,” she says carefully. Percy still looks unimpressed but his father reaches to jostle his shoulder in a friendly manner. Percy very obviously dodges out of the way. 

“But there are two conditions.” Hestia raises a finger. Her chin stays up as she states them. “Percy has to talk to a friend of mine, who is an expert in helping neurodivergent kids. And he has to try out for the school musical.”

She prepares herself for the onslaught of objections, but she doesn’t expect Poseidon to be the loudest.

“He doesn’t have time for a musical!” He exclaims. “He needs to think about basketball. He can have his head in the clouds about Broadway!”

“Your son has a gift,” she states calmly. “There’s not even a guarantee that he’ll make it. All he has to do is try out.”

Hestia successfully tunes out the complaints of the men and instead focuses on Percy. His chin is raised and his sea-green eyes sparkle in slight interest.

“Are you interested, Percy?”

Percy glances at his coach and his father briefly. Then he shrugs. “Sure.”

* * *

Rachel almost can’t believe her luck. No, she  _ absolutely _ cannot.

First, the theatre department has a new director. Her name is Hestia and she’s young, with a fresh outlook. Oracle Heights won’t be putting on Grease for the six hundredth time, which is  _ such  _ a relief.

After massive pushing from Apollo, Rachel decided to audition for Wendla. Mama Who Bore Me is actually, unironically, one of her favorite songs in musical theatre because, gods, can she relate.

Imagine Rachel’s surprise when she gets cast as the lead.

Rachel definitely hadn’t expected that outcome, but she  _ had  _ expected Annabeth Chase to be pissed off for getting Ilsa. Annabeth always got the lead, so, naturally, she was going to be bitter.

The  _ real  _ surprise, though, is that Percy Jackson is auditioning.

For  _ Melchior _ .

Rachel almost chokes on her water when he walks into the auditorium for the scene test. It’s supposed to test how much chemistry they have or something, she doesn’t know. 

Her curly auburn hair is pulled into a ponytail. She had Art Club right before this, so her oversized overalls were stained with multiple colors of paint.

Percy has the sides of his curly black hair shaved, so curls move to his forehead. His brown skin is illuminated by the stage lights. He’s tall, but he’s trying to make himself smaller. It’s interesting, Rachel doesn’t think she’s ever seen him nervous before.

He stands about two feet across from Rachel. She glances at her script, where the scene they would be doing is dog-eared. 

“You can start whenever you’re ready,” Hestia calls out to them from the audience. Rachel takes a deep breath, then starts.

“Melchior, I’m sorry about what happened,” she reads but makes attempts for eye contact. “Truly, I am. I understand why you’d be angry at me. I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Don’t.” Percy interrupts her right on cue. “Please-”

“But how can I not-   


“Please, it was me. All me.” Percy’s reading too much, there isn’t any conviction behind his words. He isn’t committing. “Something in me started when I hit you.”

Hestia interrupts their scene, Rachel turns to her. “Percy, don’t act.” She smiles encouragingly. “Just be yourself, be natural.”

Percy looks at her, the information registering on his face. Hestia tries for another smile. “It’s good, you’re doing great, guys.”

Rachel decides to start near the beginning of the scene. “I don’t know what I was thinking-”

“Don’t.” Percy looks at her intensely, more naturally. Rachel feels heat crawling up her cheeks. “No, it was  _ me _ . All me.”

He takes a step closer to her and Rachel is slightly stunned by the change in the quality of acting. 

“Something in me started when I hit you,” he explains. His eyes flicker away from hers in nerves, and it feels so natural. 

“Something in  _ me  _ too,” Rachel responds. Wendla and Melchior are at a complicated part of their relationship, where the tension is high and neither of them knows how they can deal with it. Rachel tries to convey that. 

“But  _ I _ hurt you.”

“Yes, but-but still-”

“No!” Percy’s closer to her now. Rachel can make out the exact shade of green his eyes are, the way they waver with emotions. She’s almost convinced that he cares for her. “ _ My god _ , just no more!”

At his outburst, Rachel inches closer to him. It’s all scripted, but it still feels heavy. His eyes glance down at her lips and, for the sake of the dignity and restraint she might throw out the window, she nervously brings a hand up. Like she’s not sure if she might hold him or kiss him.

“Forgive me,” he whispers slowly, loud enough that Hestia and Dionysus can hear. Out of her peripheral vision, Rachel can see Hestia at the edge of her seat.

“It was me,” she says heatedly. The double entendre isn’t lost on him because his head dips down the smallest bit at the same time hers tilts up. “It was  _ all _ me.”

Then the scene finishes, the air clears, and Rachel blinks away the strange fogginess. Whatever drew her to Percy, whatever  _ possessed  _ her to want to kiss  _ Percy Jackson _ , is replaced by awkwardness. Percy clears his throat and takes a step back from her. A sort of fear takes over Rachel as she glances at Hestia. The dark-skinned woman is grinning wider than a Cheshire Cat.

Rachel glances at Percy, he meets her eyes, and they both know they’re screwed.


	2. another sprint, another step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (another step)
> 
> In which Zeus catches wind of the musical and tries to stop it.

Percy stares at the paper.

He stares at it and stares at it until the letters stop morphing and settle into vague, unfamiliar shapes. He stares at his name until “Perseus Jackson” is a line of nonsense.

He tries to make sense of the nonsense.

The clanging sounds of the weight room blend into nothing. Percy can’t seem to take his eyes off the casting announcement that he had ripped off the bulletin board.

Chiron is going to give him hell for not working out, but that isn’t important. Percy wants to storm Hestia’s classroom and ask her why. _Why_ would she cast him as Melchior? 

He has basketball, he has a big game unbelievably close. He can’t afford _distractions_.

Why would Hestia give him a distraction?

Percy likes Hestia, don’t get him wrong. It just seems very unfair that she would cast him as the lead when she knows that you _don’t cast basketball._

Percy looks to the door to see if he can skip without anybody noticing. Unfortunately, there are two underclassmen watching him out of the corner of their eyes, so no skipping. 

He’s about to risk it when a petite figure stands in the doorway. It’s Hestia, looking way out of her element in a weight room full of sweaty guys.

She spots Percy and strides over to him, nodding at a guy who doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. Percy snickers as she tells him “good day”.

She sits right next to him on the bench and smiles.

“Congratulations on getting Melchior,” Hestia says fondly. “Rehearsals start next Monday.”

Percy shakes his head. “Hestia, you only said I have to audition.”

“Yes, but you did so well I had to cast you.”

Percy looks at her. She’s smiling warmly. 

“I don’t have _time_ ,” He repeats. “I need to do well in this game. Scouts are gonna be there and this is my only chance-”

“Have you ever tried something different?” Hestia asks. “I saw you on stage. You seemed to come alive.”

Percy stares at the paper then glances back at Hestia. She has the whisperings of a plan shining in her brown eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” he mutters. Then he drops the paper beside her and walks over to the weights.

* * *

Sally is a lot busier now.

There’s legal stuff to take care of in the closing of Sally’s Sweets, and there are meetings upon meetings. There are also job interviews in other cities.

She thinks a lot too. When her son is at school and it feels like her life is falling apart. She thinks about Percy’s basketball, his chances at scholarships if she were to uproot their entire lives and move back to where Sally grew up in Manhattan. 

Sally’s thinking when Percy opens the door, sweaty from another day of practice. He has a stormy expression on his face like he’s ready to fight someone.

His green basketball jersey hangs on medium brown skin. Sally doesn’t know how many times she’s told him to reorder a better fitting jersey for practice. She also has to keep reminding him to take out his earrings before basketball practice, so they glint in the kitchen light.

“How was school, Percy?” She asks. Percy drops his bag down on the floor and flops onto a kitchen barstool. Sally mumbles something about going to shower before he gets sweat on her counters, he pretends not to hear.

“She cast me,” he mutters. Sally’s eyebrows furrow as she looks at her son. His curly black hair is poking out of his arms, where his face is buried. “Ms. Burns _cast me_.”

“Your English teacher?” Sally distinctly remembers Hestia giving her dyslexic resources and encouraging Percy to apply for a 504. She’s a kind woman. “And cast you in what? Is this something for class?”

Percy’s head comes out from under his arms. He rubs a hand over his face as he sighs, looking so much older than he actually is. “I failed an English test and she said I need to try out for Spring Awakening for me to retake it then she fu-” he glances at his mother sheepishly before censoring himself. “She cast me as the lead.”

Sally smiles, shaking her head. “What’s the play about?”

“Actually, it’s a musical,” Percy responds quickly. He looks horrified that he registered that information, much to Sally’s amusement. “It’s about this guy named Melchior. He thinks he knows _everything_ about his world until all this crazy stuff happens. He gets his girlfriend pregnant, his best friend kills himself. He wants to end everything but he needs to figure out a way to move on and live his life. It’s...it’s crazy.”

Sally watches his face as he tells her about the play. Despite his jaded tone, Percy lights up as he explains everything to her. 

“Rachel’s my love interest,” he whispers. Sally smiles. 

“Didn’t you have a crush on her when she first moved here?” 

“ _No._ ”

Even as he denies it, Percy still looks down in embarrassment. Sally gives him a look before speaking again. 

“Why don’t you like the casting?” She asks. Percy looks at her like the answer is obvious, his green eyes filled with conflict.

“Well, I have to focus on basketball.” He shrugs, his green jersey hanging on deep brown shoulders. “I can’t split my attention, especially because of college scouts.”

“Do you want to do the play though?” Percy’s dark eyebrows furrow at the simple question. Even from that small gesture, Sally already knows the answer.

“Do it.”

Percy looks up at her. “Mom, if I bomb this season and next season, I might not go to college. I can’t-”

Sally shakes her head. He’s stubborn, something he gets from his father. “You can, Percy. You don’t have to keep making sacrifices for basketball. You can do both.”

He purses his lips in thought. Then he tugs a curly strand of hair and gets up.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he says thoughtfully. Then he gets up and goes to his room. Sally smiles as she preps dinner because it’s not a dismissal. 

* * *

Malcolm is the only person that can take Rachel’s ranting.

Rachel and Malcolm walk to The Bright Place, where Rachel’s nervously babbling about the casting. 

Percy ended up getting the part of Melchior, much to Chiron’s chagrin. Rachel’s only wary about where this might lead. She isn’t very close to Percy. In the three years she’s lived at Oracle Heights, the farthest she has ever gone with him is a hello at pep rallies.

Of course, she had also harbored a crush on him when she was fourteen. Everybody had.

“That’s hot,” Malcolm comments when she tells him about the audition. He’s smirking and Rachel glares at her best friend. 

“Shut up, it was nothing.”

Malcolm raises an eyebrow. “If it was nothing then why do you look like you’re about to go to an early grave.”

“Only if you dig it for me, baby,” Rachel winks and Malcolm laughs.

He pushes her shoulder. “You know, Percy’s been making eyes at you all week.”

“He has not,” Rachel scoffs. Malcolm raises a blonde eyebrow.

“Really? He got hit in the face with a basketball because he was staring at you.”

Rachel opens the door to Apollo’s business to hide her embarrassment. She settles in the window seat, grabbing a book about art history off a nearby cart. Percy’s cute, sure, but he isn’t really her type.

Does she even have a type?

“How did Annabeth react?” Rachel asks Malcolm. She can’t suppress her smirk at the look on Annabeth’s face. It must have been glorious. 

He chuckles at her ill-contained glee at the thought of her rival’s rage. “Annabeth turned so red.”

“Really?”

“Redder than a _beet_.”

Rachel starts laughing so hard she has to grip the edge of the window seat to keep herself from falling off. Malcolm rolls his eyes.

“You know I’m her half-brother, right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You got the good genes, though,” she sighs. “For one, you can step into this place without trashing it.”

She’s referring to the time that Annabeth and her best friend Connor egged The Bright Place on Halloween. Of course, it was never proven, but Rachel’s still convinced that Annabeth did it.

Malcolm’s mother owns a bookstore called Athens’ Books and it’s in direct rivalry with Apollo’s more enjoyable bookstore, The Bright Place. Malcolm technically isn’t allowed to step foot in the bookstore, but he finds it much more relaxing than the dark browns and leathers of his mother’s bookstore.

The business rivalry is the cause of the tension between Apollo and, by extension, Rachel, and the Chase family. Apollo brings in more customers in the culture area for his bright personality, extensive knowledge of anything you could think of, and the comfortable arrangement of his business. Athena brings in more customers in another area because of the quiet atmosphere of Athens’ Books.

As much as Malcolm loves his mother, he doesn’t understand why anybody under the age of seventy would ever visit Athens’ Books.

Malcolm pulls out his script and homework as Rachel reads. He doesn’t know how someone can spend so little time on her homework and still make straight A’s. He watches the light hit her deep brown skin, turning her auburn curls aflame. He was there when she dyed them, he was also there when she FaceTimed her parents to show them and hung up on their shocked expressions.

A curl of disappointment fills his chest as he thinks about his role. Hanschen Rilow. He had expected Moritz or someone who’s actually important in the play. He hadn’t expected a...a _side character_.

He and Annabeth, his half-sister, always got the leads, except if they were romantic, of course. Malcolm’s happy for Rachel, he has to be, she’s his best friend, he just feels...robbed.

He also thinks about how his parents will react. His mother is very...cautious with her reputation. She might deem Hanschen’s love scene with a boy the bringer of her destruction. 

Malcolm doesn’t want to disappoint her, but he also doesn’t want to disappoint his troupe.

Despite this uncertainty, Malcolm is happy for his best friend. Rachel has the voice of an angel. She can belt in true mezzo-soprano fashion and her falsetto is beautiful. Malcolm knows that it probably had come down to a close tie between Rachel and Annabeth. It baffles him why Annabeth wasn’t chosen.

Is it a challenge? Is it a lesson in humility for his half-sister? Malcolm doesn’t know and he’s not sure how much he even cares to find out, either.

Malcolm glances at Rachel again. One thing he is worried about, though, is Percy. Percy as Melchior and Rachel as Wendla is probably going to lead to something. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Rachel, he just doesn’t trust Percy, who’s had an on-again-off-again thing with Annabeth.

He doesn’t want to see Rachel get hurt.

Despite his worry for his best friend, Malcolm tries to cheer up. Hestia was certainly something. She had already made atypical casting decisions, ones that would shake this small town to its core. Oracle Heights doesn’t like to deviate from the norm, that’s for sure. Something’s brewing with OHHS’s Spring Awakening, and he can’t wait to watch it unfold.

* * *

Hestia sits in Zeus’ office, staring at him as he glares at her. 

He slams the script for Spring Awakening down on his desk, but she doesn’t flinch.

“What. Is. This.” Zeus grows bright red as he seethes. “Underage sex. Teen pregnancy. Suicide. Rape. What possessed you to think this is a good show for high school?!” He roars the last part and Hestia slowly pretends to wipe spit off her brow. It’s petty and Zeus huffs, Hestia has to suppress a smile.

“It’s not about that,” she sighs. She’s said this a million times. “It’s about the-”

“It doesn’t matter what you think it’s about,” Zeus says. He sounds a bit hysterical to Hestia. “It doesn’t matter because you’re not putting on Summer Awake-”

“Spring Awakening.”

“-and you’re not directing anymore.”

Hestia stands up abruptly. “What?!”

“The job should have gone to Dionysus anyway,” he says cooly. “Dionysus will be putting on A Pirate’s Tale because we already have the costumes and it doesn’t cost much. Percy Jackson goes back to basketball. Thank you, Ms. Burns, you are dismissed.”

Hestia seems to float through the next hour. Shock dulls her senses as she drives home to her small house, closes the door, and prepares the next lesson plan.

Then it finally clicks. All her plans, everything she dreamed of for the high school theatre production, gone.

Gone in a flash.

* * *

Rachel is talking to Malcolm when he walks in.

Honestly, she’s surprised to see Percy walk into rehearsal. She was half-convinced he would quit. 

His tall, lean form looks out of his element. The stage lights accentuate his warm brown skin, which honestly isn’t fair because of the disservice they do to her own skin. Percy clutches his Spring Awakening script tightly.

Seeing him again makes Rachel think of their audition, which makes heat flood her cheeks _again_.

Malcolm pushes her shoulder. “There’s your boyfriend,” he teases. Rachel rolls her eyes and waves to him.

“Percy!” She calls. “Over here!”

Everybody’s staring at him while he sits down on the auditorium stage with Rachel and Malcolm. He smiles. It’s adorable.

“Thank you,” he breathes. His head swivels as he checks out the area. “I haven’t been _here_ a lot. It’s kind of intimidating.”

“Well, _you’re_ kind of intimidating,” Rachel shrugs. “The star basketball player lands the lead in the school musical. Someone should write an Off-Broadway production about that.”

“Someone already did,” Malcolm snorts. “It’s called High School Musical.”

“ _Pfft_.” Percy hides his laugh behind his fist while Rachel laughs out loud. 

When they quiet down, Percy seems to inspect them. Rachel hugs her knees as she watches him watch them. Malcolm is texting on his phone, too-long dirty blond hair tucked behind his ears.

“So, what’s the deal with this play, anyway?” Percy asks. Rachel cocks her head to the side, beckoning him to elaborate.

“Why is it so important?” He fidgets with his thumbnail. “Of course, Ms. Burns is totally a genius, but I feel like there’s another reason why she wants to put this on.”

Just as he says that, a loud, cheerful voice speaks from across the auditorium. 

“You are very right, Percy.” 

Hestia briskly walks down the aisle, one of her trademark long sweaters billowing behind her. Today, the sweater is a navy blue color, and it absolutely swallows the woman. She’s wearing a pair of round, gold glasses, and her box-braids are left to hang loosely.

She stops right at the very front of the stage, all the kids turning to face her. 

“Many of you might be wondering why I decided on Spring Awakening.” She chuckles, “It is _certainly_ a controversial show.”

“But these things happen,” Hestia goes on to explain. “Keeping you guys in the dark about it just allows issues to persist. Avoiding reality can only make it much worse. Even if it’s nineteenth-century Germany, or a small town in modern-day New York, the stories of these characters are _your_ stories. Their problems are some that you’ve heard of today.”

As Rachek listens to her, she finds herself believing it too. Believing that there’s a message in Spring Awakening that needs to be brought back. Percy leans to her.

“I didn’t know it was that deep,” He whispers. “But she’s kind of right.”

Rachel nods. “I wonder what’s next.”

Hestia sighs just then. Her composed demeanor sags a bit as she smiles sadly at all the students.

“Unfortunately, though, I lost.”

Rachel furrows her eyebrows. She exchanges a glance with Percy and Malcolm. 

“What does that mean?” She asks out loud. The club mutters their agreement. “What do you...what do you mean?”

Hestia purses her lips. “Unfortunately, Zeus said that we can’t put on Spring Awakening. He also said that I will no longer be directing the musical-”

Enraged cries erupt around the auditorium. Hestia calmly waits for the drama kids to finish. Dionysus raises a hand.

“Can you lot let the woman speak?” He grumbles. “Disrespectful…”

Hestia smiles slightly as she addresses them again. Rachel is on her feet in outrage, not exactly sure who she’s going to fight. Indignation rises in her chest, fueled by the fact she _just_ landed the lead role.

“Dionysus will be directing A Pirate’s Tale. You’ve had him for years, you all know he’s an amazing director.”

Rachel’s shoulders sag in disappointment. She already knows how this will play out. He will recast Malcolm and Annabeth in the lead roles. He’ll do the same boring choreography, boring stage directions. He’ll play it safe.

Rachel hates safety.

So she talks. After rehearsal, she speaks to her classmates. She organizes, something she is definitely not used to doing. Rachel rallies the drama kids, she even convinces Annabeth.

Then she tells Dionysus and, to her surprise, he agrees.

“This town needs a little shaking up,” he says amusedly. “It’ll surely be entertaining.”

Rachel nods. “Thank you, so you’ll be there? With the costumes?”

He smiles cryptically. “You’re nothing like Wendla, you know.”

Rachel purses her lips, knowing that Dionysus can be a bit maddening to be around. 

“That’s cool, sir, but you’ll be there?”

He smirks as he walks away. Rachel wants to crush something as his purple-clad figure turns his back on her.

“Of course, I’ll be there, Robin. Who else will film?”

* * *

“ _I believe, I believe, I believe, oh I believe, all will be forgiven_.”

Rachel grins as she tosses another pirate costume into the great bonfire. Malcolm harmonizes ahead of her while Percy stands next to her. 

The school’s parking lot made an excellent location for the small show of rebellion. The drama kids had collected the costumes for A Pirate’s Tale, started a fire in the middle of the parking lot, and proceeded to throw the costumes into the fire as they sang I Believe from Spring Awakening.

It was _glorious_.

“Isn’t this the song we have sex to?” Rachel mutters to Percy. He starts laughing so hard Annabeth gives him a weird look, which makes him cough in embarrassment.

Rachel starts singing again in glee. A boy with a jean jacket with lots of patches, Mitchell, hands Rachel a red dress. She recognizes him; he’s playing Ernst Robel.

“Please burn that one,” he says in a brief moment for the drama kids to laugh. “It’s _hideous_.”

Rachel laughs and takes the dress from him. She sees him glance at Malcolm before blushing and turning away. _Interesting_.

When they start singing I Believe again, they’re cut off by a car driving into the parking lot. A stunned Hestia finds her theatre students burning their costumes.

Coach Chiron and Principal Zeus both run out of the building, in shock to see Percy among them.

“What is the meaning of this?” Zeus demands. He looks at Dionysus, but the older man simply gestures to Rachel and Percy.

“We want to do Spring Awakening,” she says clearly, brushing an auburn curl out of her line of vision. “And we want Hestia as our director.”

Chiron gapes then focuses on Percy. The star of the basketball team shrugs. 

“If you don’t let me do this, I quit basketball.”

Rachel glances at him. She hadn’t expected that ultimatum. Chiron contemplates nervously, running a hand over thinning brown hair.

Percy crosses his arms and stares him down. It’s a challenge. 

“Fine,” Chiron says calmly. “But you’ll see the consequences of splitting time, it’ll show.”

Everybody’s staring at the scene, almost forgetting their task. Dionysus rolls his eyes at Hestia’s astounded expression.

“So Peter Johnson will be the male lead of the musical, what else is new?” He snorts. Hestia chuckles, shaking her head.

Rachel looks at Zeus, determination flashing in her green eyes.

“So, what say you, Principal?” She begins to count out on her fingers. “You have no costumes for A Pirate’s Tale. You have no props. The man _you_ appointed agrees with us, and you have no cooperating students. We have demands, and you can either meet them or meet resistance.”

The principal stares at her, his blue eyes boring into hers. If looks could kill, Rachel would be in a morgue.

Finally, he sighs. He scrubs a hand down his face in fatigue. Rachel almost feels sorry for the guy.

“Fine,” he concedes and the parking lot erupts into cheers. Then, gesturing wildly at the fire and the mess, “Make sure you clean this up.”

As Rachel impulsively tosses her arms around Percy, a giddy feeling settles in her heart. It was just the first week of the musical but they _won_. The bonfire throws red and orange hues across the laughing and singing teenagers. Rachel doesn’t know if there’s such a thing as nostalgia for a present experience, but she’s feeling it now.

She laughs again, to the dark night sky, where the sparks and smoke from the bonfire float up to the stars.

Goodness, gracious, _they won_.


	3. another day, another breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dionysus confronts the board about lack of funding, Percy has to make a choice between practice and rehearsal, Malcolm tells his parents about his role, and Hestia finds a boy sleeping in the school.

“We need funding.”

Dionysus Pollux states this simply and calmly as he walks into Hestia’s office without knocking.

Rehearsals are doing fine, the teenagers of drama club are none the wiser to the current predicament of the directors. A week after the bonfire, Zeus had placed the blame for “the destruction of school property” on Dionysus and Hestia and shaved their budget down to zero.

Dionysus doesn’t think of burning thirty-year-old costumes as destruction, more like a favor.

“We need 20k to produce this show, and Zeus has left us with _nothing_. We need a plan.”

Hestia Burns massages her temples from her desk, setting down a bright yellow pencil.

“I know, Dionysus. It’s much harder than it looks, though.”

“Then let me speak,” he suggests. He takes a swig of Diet Coke right after, at which Hestia raises an eyebrow.

“Okay.”

His brows furrow at the easy concession. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Hestia smiles. “I’ve been getting nowhere, so you ought to have a better idea.”

She checks her watch then gets up and collects her things. “I have to sub for Silvers across the school, but tell me what you’re going to say at rehearsals today.”

Dionysus nods strangely as he watches the petite woman leave in a hurry. She’s a strange woman.

* * *

As Hestia finishes her bit, a half-hearted round of applause travels around the room.

She sighs as she goes back to her seat next to Dionysus. “If you have anything to say, you should say it now.”

Dionysus merely smiles. “Timing is everything in the theatre. Wait.”

So they wait. They wait as the board of directors allows Coach Chiron to come to the podium. They watch as he proposes a ludicrous 50k for a Jumbotron.

And Dionysus notices. He notices the small eye rolls around the room as the Board almost gives it to him. He notices the small clenching of fists, the yawns, and the troubled looks.

Then he stands.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he says loudly. Eyes travel to his purple-clad form. The ugly purple shirt and dark corduroys make him an eyesore, but an important one. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you rejected my co-director's request for 20k for our production. Actually, you've rejected all the director’s requests for more money. It’s frankly ridiculous that you claim to not have money but you’re willing to blow 50k on a Jumbotron,” he laughs, looking around the room. There are mutters of agreement. “A _Jumbotron_. This is _high school_ , nobody’s playing the major leagues.”

The director purses his lips. “We will consider, thank you for your ti-”

“No,” Dionysus holds up a finger, cutting him off. “No, because you have money to plant thirty trees all over the school but you can’t produce 40k to fund the musicals of two schools.” He looks at the audience, a smile curling his lips. “I don’t know about everybody else, but I don’t even like trees. They give me allergies.”

The people sitting in chairs laugh and nod. The directors watch as they slowly lose control of the room.

“You have money for trees, but you can’t support the arts.” Dionysus sticks his hands in his pockets, looking at the directors incredulously. “Basketball is nice, yes, but what else does it do? Provide dumb entertainment? Give our kids concussions? The arts are what we stay _alive_ for. They make us think and uncover parts of ourselves we didn’t even know existed. You can’t give money to trees and basketball and refuse to fund what has kept humans going for centuries.”

The audience mutters louder now. Dionysus shakes his head and Hestia watches in awe as her assistant director turns the crowd.

“Humans were painting in caves before we had written language. We sought out something deeper than tangible existence and we _found it_ , and we held it close to our hearts. To turn our backs on it now...is a betrayal to every ideal we have held since our conception.”

With a profound shake of his head and the applause of his audience, Dionysus sits down. Chiron has turned red and he exchanges a look with the directors on the podium. Before they can move on, Dionysus stands abruptly.

“We need 20k to do the show,” he tells them. “But we can work with 16...Yes, 16 will do just fine.”

* * *

Hestia still can’t believe it.

The board gave them fourteen thousand dollars, which was less than needed but they would have to make do. Dionysus had managed to convince them to drop the Jumbotron and finance the productions of two schools in the county. 

She can’t believe how lucky they are.

She enters the auditorium before anybody gets there. She loves to prepare her plans for rehearsals in the quiet grandeur of the theatre. The high ceilings, golden specks of dust flying through the air, and the wide stage contribute to a lovely feeling that swells in her chest.

“Annabeth, make sure you offer Rachel a chance to shine, too,” she mutters to herself. She doesn’t want to be unprepared with her criticism, so she practices. “You’re amazing, but Ilse is an opportunity to-”

Before she can finish her sentence, there’s a crash from up above. Her head jerks up to the sound booth, where a low groan can be heard.

“Who’s up there?” She calls out. Then, cringing, she follows up with, “Are you okay?”

A skinny boy with coppery brown skin and a head of curly hair peaks over the lightboard. He runs a hand over his face before smiling.

“I’m alright!”

Hestia frowns. Did he sleep here? 

“Young man, what’s your name?”

She doesn’t like having to have a shouting match across the auditorium, but Leo simply speaks into the microphone.

“Hi, I’m Leo Valdez. I work the lightboard.” He gestures to the console sheepishly.

Hestia purses her lips as she briskly walks over to the sound booth. Three minutes later she’s looking him in the eye. His dark brown eyes are analyzing, calculating.

“Did you sleep here, Leo?” She asks softly. Leo’s eyes take a downcast turn as he fiddles with a knob on the board, leaning on the wall. 

“Uhm-I-”

Hestia takes in the environment. There’s a backpack against the wall and a thin pillow on the floor.

She meets his eyes again. “Do you understand that I have to call child services?"

Leo shakes his head. Quickly. Determination settles on his features.

“Don’t put me back in the system, please,” he begs. “I can’t...it’s bad there. I’m safer here than I ever was in there.”

Hestia watches him. She knows what any other responsible adult would do. She knows what she should do.

But seeing the desperation written all over his face...she can’t do it. 

“Leo, please meet me after rehearsals,” she says finally. “It’s not safe to stay inside an empty school so...you can stay with me until you figure something out.”

Hestia knows she shouldn’t. Last time hadn’t ended well…it hadn’t ended well at all. She had promised herself she would stop this nonsense, but she can’t look this boy in the eyes and turn him away.

His face is blank for a terrifying second, then he breaks into a wide, appreciative, smile.

“Thank you so much, Ms.B.”

Hestia nods, briskly turning on her heel and wondering if she’s made the wrong move.

* * *

Percy stumbles.

“What are you doing here?” He recites.

“-there.” Hestia corrects him again and Percy wants to _die_. 

Rachel raises an eyebrow at him from on top of the table and he turns to Hestia with a cringe. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just…”

Hestia nods. “I understand, Percy, don’t worry. You’re trying to juggle all the plates. Please take some time later to review your lines, though. It’s important.”

Then she turns to direct the ensemble in choreography. Rachel hops off the table, auburn curls bouncing. Percy goes to help her move it to the side. They sit down on sturdy boxes in the wings.

“I hate looking stupid,” he mutters, watching the ensemble dance. Rachel nods.

“It must be harder for you,” she sympathizes. “You have basketball and Chiron must be working you hard.”

Percy laughs bitterly, “You can imagine. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to give me less time to work on this. He makes me stay after for an extra hour, he makes me run extra laps, I have to clean up afterward. And I have to help my m-”

He cuts himself off, clamping his lips shut. He doesn’t want anybody to know about him and his mom’s situation.

He looks at Rachel. Spots of her freckled brown skin are glowing under the streams of stage lights that escaped through the curtain. It isn’t really fair, because he knows he probably looks terrible under them. Her red-brown curls shine, looking like sheets of copper. Thoughtful green eyes meet his expectantly.

He looks straight ahead, wonder coating his words. “You’re amazing, though. You have... _everything_ in the bag. I’m kind of jealous.”

Rachel tucks a hair behind her ear in embarrassment. “I do _not_.”

“Yes, you _do_ ,” Percy bumps her shoulder. “You’re an amazing singer. Why don’t you try out for more musicals?”

He watches her eyes move to Annabeth across the room. She’s wearing leg warmers and dance shoes, and she just perfectly completed a fouetté. There aren’t even pirouettes in Spring Awakening. 

He sighs at the sight of his ex then turns back to Rachel. “Rachel, you beat out Annabeth for the lead role. You have to give yourself more credit.”

Rachel rolls her eyes then smiles at him. “And what about you Mister ‘I suck so much at this?’ You need to accept that you’re talented.”

“I am not.” Heat rushes to his cheeks anyway, which makes Rachel laugh. 

“Percy, your voice…” she shakes her head. “It’s beautiful. And you’re an _amazing_ rapper.”

“I can’t act, though.”

Rachel’s mouth drops open, fake offended. “Lie. Lie to me again, Jackson, see what happens.”

He thinks playfully, “I hate you.”

“I said lie, not tell the truth.”

A grin spreads out on his face. Rachel is blunt, hilarious, and warm. He loves being around her.

She tugs on a curl as she studies him. “You need help with your lines, right?”

Percy nods and Rachel continues.

“Sooo, meet me at my place? We can go over them together, if you want to, of course, because you don’t have to if you don’t want to and-”

Percy interrupts her with a small, consenting smile. The nerves showing on her face soften as he says, “I’d love to.”

“I’ll text you my address,” she says after rehearsal. They exchange numbers at the door, small smiles gracing them both. Percy straps his wrist guards as he prepares to skateboard home.

“Cool. Does seven-thirty work?”

Rachel nods with a smile, “Seven-thirty is _perfect_.”

* * *

The hours crawl by as Percy plays one on one with Chris.

Chris tries to fake him out, but he catches the older boy in the act, stealing the ball and trying to shoot a two-pointer.

He misses.

Chris groans for the third time in two hours. “Percy, what the hell are you on?”

“What does that mean?” Percy shoots back. Chris had been the one to suggest a one on one practice anyway, why is he complaining?

“Can you get your head in the game,” he says. Chris grabs the ball from his hands and shoots the shot Percy had missed.

“There are gonna be college scouts at the game on Saturday-”

“I know, Chris.”

“-you need to get your head out of La La Land-”

“Spring Awakening, actually.”

“-and focus!” 

The two boys stare at each other, angry tension thick in the air. Percy rolls his eyes.

“Chris, I got somewhere to be,” he says. He thinks about Rachel, it’s getting closer to seven-thirty.

“You’re not trying hard enough!” Chris shouts, his voice echoing in the practically empty gym. “C’mon, man, if you suck, I suck. _I’m_ counting on you, my _family_ is counting on you. You’re my only chance.”

Conflict pieces itself in his mind. He can’t blow off Rachel, but he needs this practice time. People are counting on him. As vain as it sounds, Chiron has drilled it into him that their wins rest on his shoulders, and their losses do too.

Basketball was there before theatre ever was. Basketball gave him hope when his dad had forced his way into his life in middle school. Basketball had given him a team, a life, a family.

Who was he to throw that away?

Percy swallows the dry lump of guilt and looks Chris in the eye.

“Fine.”

Chris grins, jostling Percy’s head and pounding his knuckles. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“We’re gonna kick Mercury’s ass,” Percy pours conviction into his words, making them sound certain and convincing. An invasive thought points out where he learned that from. Drama club. Then they start to play, over and over again as muscle memory accentuates his skill.

He’s starting to feel more like himself as he forgets a certain redhead, and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

* * *

Rachel waits.

Apollo frowns as he watches his niece sit at the dining table. She’s been sitting there for an hour. 

Her deep green blouse is way too nice for her to get blown off. Apollo himself had helped her pick it out, it brought out her eyes. Her auburn curls are arranged half-up, half-down. She had even bothered to do light makeup.

Empty silence fills the space, where a boy should be sitting beside her and laughing with, there’s nothing. The staleness dries the air, where Rachel’s lonely form sits at the table.

“You’re too good for him,” Apollo says as he dries the dishes. Rachel shakes her head with a bitter laugh. She gives him a peck on the cheek when she stands up, packing up her script and highlighters.

“I’m going to my room.”

Apollo wishes he could somehow make it better. Rachel’s parents dumped her in this town when she was an eighth grader, the way they used to dump her in boarding schools to get rid of her. She has issues with being left behind, and Apollo wants to ring that boy around the neck for preying on them.

“You deserve better!” Apollo calls out to her. Rachel laughs, then shuts her door. He checks the time.

It’s eight-thirty.

* * *

Malcolm stares at his family as they eat dinner.

His father, Tristan Pace, complements the chicken. Athena coldly thanks him. Annabeth is willfully disinterested. Frederick Chase is nervously eating his food. His wife and kids do the same.

This is the only night where everybody has dinner. Malcolm thinks that they’re trying to build a sense of comradery and unification, but it backfires. It backfires big time.

Now is the time to say something. He _needs_ to tell them about Hanschen.

“Uhm, hello?” 

Everybody at the long table turns to look at Malcolm. He’s a performer, but this isn’t the attention he wants.

Still, he swallows the nerves and speaks confidently.

“So, I’m not playing Danny Zuko, so you don’t have to worry about my sex symbol status.”

The entire table laughs, Annabeth’s grey eyes bore into his temple. She already told them about Ilse, and their mother had been outraged to find that she hadn’t been casted as the lead. Out of respect for him, though, she hadn’t told their family about his role as Hanschen.

Malcolm pulls the Spring Awakening script from under his leg. He nervously looks at all the faces.

“I did make it into the play. And my character has a love scene…” they wait for him to spit it out. “With a boy.”

There’s dead silence around the table. His mother puts down her fork. His father looks around the table.

“Malcolm, if your character has a male love interest, I don’t see a problem.”

His mother slices a glare at him. “Yes, but...people could talk.”

His father frowns. “Let them, Athena.”

Athena folds her hands in frustration, focusing on Malcolm. “Malcolm, can I have the script? Just for review.”

He nods, handing it to her. “I’m telling you because I value your opinion-” he glances around the table, to his step-siblings, stepfather, everyone. “-all of you. I know that Mother values her reputation and...I guess that’s why I’m doing this.”

Athena flips through the script, setting it down. “I don’t want you associated with this Malcolm. What character are you playing?”

“Hanschen.”

“In one of the first scenes, he masturbates in front of the audience.” Athena’s voice curls with disgust. Helen glances at her kids nervously, but they’re playing on their phones. “Do you want colleges to find this...this _filthy_ musical? You’ll ruin yourself, lower yourself to a level someone of your background shouldn’t be reduced to.”

Malcolm leans forward, making sure not to put his elbows on the table. “Mother, I know. But I’ve already been cast, and I can’t let my troupe down.”

“It’s too late to reverse it,” Annabeth pipes in diplomatically. Malcolm sends her a thank you with his eyes. “If you don’t like it, you’ll have to deal with it, Mother. He made a commitment to the troupe, do you want him to be _that_ kid?”

Athena purses her lips then picks up her fork again. “We’ll discuss this later.”

As the air of normalcy returns to the air, Malcolm releases a breath. He locks eyes with Annabeth across the table, both of them coming to the same conclusion.

This might not be a loss, but it definitely isn’t a win either.

* * *

Malcolm immediately senses Rachel’s mood when they walk to school.

“What’s wrong, Rache?”

Rachel adjusts her burgundy beanie, buying herself time. The morning air frames her red curls like a halo. “Percy blew me off.”

There’s a blank in Malcolm’s mind when he hears that. It takes him a whole minute to fully process it. 

“He _what_ _?!_ ”

Percy had never blown Annabeth off, his half-sister would have punted him into the sun. Malcolm will never tell Rachel that, though, there’s no need to add salt to the wound.

He wraps an arm around Rachel’s shoulders as they near the school. He scans the area, seeing Percy skateboarding to school. Percy spots him, too, because he kicks off the board and starts to make his way toward them, an apology written all over his face.

Malcolm quickly takes a sharp turn toward the school steps, effectively avoiding Percy. In his peripheral vision, he sees Percy frown.

“He’s a jerk,” he reassures Rachel at their lockers. Rachel just nods.

“I know.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Good thing, too, cause it wasn’t a date.”

Malcolm raises an eyebrow and Rachel raises hers back. 

“It wasn’t a date,” she repeats. Malcolm rolls his eyes.

“ _Sure_ ," he drawls with a smirk. "I saw your Snap. You were dressed _way_ too nice for it not to be a date.”

Rachel shoves him lightly. “Shut up.” She looks into the mirror in her locker, frowns, then shuts it before turning to him.

“What about your parents? Did you tell them about your role?”

Malcolm cringes at the memory as they walk to Calculus. “My dad was cool about it.”

“That’s amazing!”

“But my mom…”

Rachel groans, “Not the bi-”

“That’s my _mom_.”

She grins catlike. “I know.”

Malcolm stifles a smile as they walk to class. “She’s worried that people will talk, which might be kind of fair. I’m not gay.”

“And if you were?” Rachel challenges. “Why would she have an issue if her son is gay? What would she be able to do about it?”

He shrugs, stopping at the door. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to see.”

And they will, Malcolm’s sure of it. His mother likes rigid schedules and elaborate plans. Spring Awakening effectively ruins all her plans for Oracle Heights. Her daughter and son being the stars of the theatre program, keeping basketball separate from theatre, her plans for Annabeth, and Malcolm to be seen as the “Golden Kids” of the small town.

Athena is a little bit small-minded, and a lot stubborn. Malcolm takes after his father more, laid-back, content with the pursuit of knowledge.

Maybe that’s why they divorced, and maybe that’s why Malcolm still doesn’t really know his mother.

Still, as he sits in his seat for class, next to Rachel, he can’t help but think about what comes next.


	4. been chasing dreams, but i never slept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Percy finally work that out, Leo gets situated at Hestia's, Jason gets cast as Moritz, and Malcolm starts thinking about Mitchell.

Rachel avoids him like the plague.

All week, when he goes right, she goes left. When he comes close, she runs in the opposite direction.

He knows it, too, because he looks at her a lot. Across the lunchroom, when the basketball team is doing runs outside, during rehearsals.

Of course, she can’t avoid him forever, because he’s her love interest in Spring Awakening.

Malcolm had to leave to practice a scene with Mitchell when Percy approached her. She rolls her eyes and starts to walk away when he starts talking.

“Rachel, please.”

“Please, what?” She scoffs. “Please go away? Because I think you should.”

“I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

Rachel turns on her heel, throwing her arms out to the side. “Fine, you said sorry. Is everything all better now, Percy?”

“I wish it was,” he admits. Today, he’s wearing a sleeveless band t-shirt and jeans. Rachel notices, with a little embarrassment, how he's rubbing his arms nervously.

“You got a good excuse?” She asks quietly, crossing her arms.

Percy shakes his head. “Not really. I just...I’m trying to learn how to balance basketball and theatre at the same time. You deserved better than what I did, and it’s on me.”

Her frown drops. That part of her, the empathetic part, floods her. She can’t be mad at him anymore, he was making it too difficult. Rachel thinks about how hard it is, to have the weight of your school’s expectation on your back. For something to become your life, for it to become your only way out of a stupid small town.

“You don’t have to carry that team, you know?” Rachel steps closer to him, close enough so she can see the furrow in his eyebrows. She knows that he rubs them a lot. “They can’t just put all the pressure on you to win for them.”

Percy laughs shortly. “That’s just how it is. I-I need to win. Lots of them are seniors, and college scouts will be there.”

Rachel looks him in the eye, tilting her chin up slightly. “Are you even playing for yourself anymore?”

She can see that the question takes him aback. His eyes dart between hers, before breaking eye contact.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice taking a faraway tone. “I love basketball. I love the game, the way the gym smells before everybody arrives. The way the ball hits the ground after you’ve warmed up a little. I’ve been playing since I was eleven and...it’s been there for me when nothing else was.”

“Then why do you have to deny doing other things you love for it?” She asks. She searches his eyes for answers. “Because when you’re practicing, you’re thinking of theatre. When you’re not practicing, you’re probably thinking of theatre. All this sudden pressure from Chiron is because you  _ can’t stop thinking about theatre _ .”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “You read me like a magazine, Dare.”   


She smiles, “Nah, you just make it too easy.”

Before the moment is over, Hestia’s voice calls out to them.

“Great chemistry, guys!” She shouts to them. “I can see that you’ve been practicing!”

They step away, embarrassed. They turn their faces away, inspecting every detail of the auditorium other than the person standing right in front of them.

Rachel finds her voice first. “I have a shift at The Bright Place today...but if you still want to rehearse your lines, I have a thirty-minute break. You can come over during my shift and…I can make time.”

Percy smiles, blindingly bright. “Thank you so much, Rachel. You don’t understand how much this means.”

Rachel shrugs, “Don’t be late.” 

“Never again,” Percy jokes. 

As Hestia calls the girls up to rehearse Mama Who Bore Me (Reprise), Rachel gathers her breath. She tries to shake Percy out of her thoughts as she sings. She tries to get him out as Hestia offers advice.

She keeps trying, but she can’t.

* * *

Leo likes it here.

Hestia Burns is a warm-hearted woman, and her home naturally reflects that.

Warm lights, a cream-colored couch accentuated by red and orange throw pillows. There are pieces of art, probably bought at the flea market. 

Leo isn’t sure if he should take off his shoes, Hestia says it’s fine. He looks around in awe as the woman gives him a tour. This is the nicest place he’s stayed.

“This will be your room,” Hestia points to a door down the hall. “That’s the bathroom,” she points out the first door in the hall. She clasps her hands.

“Any questions?”

Leo shakes his head, “No, I think I got it.”

Hestia smiles and makes her way downstairs. “Don’t hesitate to come to my office if you need anything.”

He nods and starts to examine the details. The house is comfortable, but there’s a certain air to it. Like it was meant for more.

So Leo searches. Discreetly, of course, under the guise of forgetting where things are. He sees awkward spaces on the walls, where there should be a picture hanging but there’s just a black space. He sees the kitchen, where everything is placed rather conveniently for a stranger.

That night, at dinner, Leo comes to a conclusion.

“This isn’t the first time you’re taking someone in,” he says surely. He munches on mac and cheese, gauging Hestia's reaction. She smiles.

“No, no, it’s not.” She chews a piece, swallows, and looks at him. “What led you to that discovery?”

Leo points to various spots in the house. “There are spaces on the walls where pictures are supposed to be. The guest room is perfectly made up but not for an adult, for a teenager, because there are paler patches on the walls. Like you took off posters after a long time. Who were they?”

Hestia rests her hands under her chin, slightly amused. “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Leo leans back. “You’re deflecting.”

Hestia laughs, good and long. Leo quirks an eyebrow. They eat in comfortable silence before Hestia speaks.

“His name was Ethan,” she muses. She collects his plate, and Leo follows her to help. “He was…a runaway. He had gotten in with some bad people, and I gave him a place to stay. He stayed with me for a year before leaving.”

Leo frowns. “Why would he leave?”

“Let me put that a little bit differently. They took him back.” Hestia’s voice doesn’t waver as she tells Leo the story. “There was this loyalty thing, I don’t know, but they said he turned traitor and threatened my home. He went back with them willingly and I haven’t seen him since.”

Her eyes are downcast as she does the dishes, the story puts a damper on Leo’s mood. He dries the dishes silently.

“I’m-I’m sorry I asked,” he cringes.   


Hestia shakes her head, “It’s okay. At one point, we have to learn how to go back and revise the past without feeling the need to escape.”

The quote hits him like a brick. Leo’s been running away from his past, that’s for sure.

“If you don’t mind sharing,” Hestia begins. “What happened? For you to sleep in school?”

Leo struggles to find the words. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Should he start at when his mom died in a fire when he was eight, or should he skip to being bounced around from relative to relative? Maybe it would do some good to fast forward to running away from his foster home, where nobody cares.

Hestia shakes her head. “You don’t have to say, Leo, it’s okay. Are you still hungry?”

He’s about to say no when his stomach growls. This elicits a light laugh from Hestia as she dries her hands and takes the macaroni pan out of the oven. She smiles a bright smile to Leo.

“Help yourself, Leo, you’re welcome here.”

* * *

Moritz.

Jason feels giddy. He got cast as  _ Moritz _ .

He hadn’t been able to make past rehearsals due to time conflicts with student government, baseball, and other activities meant to beef up his college resume, but now he was there.

He’s here. 

His father hadn’t been happy about it, but he wasn’t very happy anymore now that Thalia had left for college. Jason supposes that him coming out as trans, his stepmother becoming increasingly unsatisfied with their marriage, and his older sister moving across the country all contributed to Zeus’ state of dissatisfaction.

This isn’t about his father, the principal, though. For once in Jason’s life, it’s about  _ him _ .

He walks into the auditorium, clutching his backpack as he walks down the aisle. Hestia Burns, the woman directing the show, waves to him.

“Everybody, this is our Moritz!” 

Warm hellos and greeting are tossed at Jason, they do something to ease his anxiety.

He taps his foot nervously. “Um, thank you, Ms. Burns, for casting me as Moritz. Um, last year, you all might have known me as Diana, but…I’m Jason now and I would like it if you called me that from now on.”

“Yes”, “sure”, and “no problem” are the chorus of words that travel around the room. Jason has to keep himself from beaming.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He runs a hand through his blond hair before quickly going up the steps to the stage. 

He meets the ensemble members. There’s a girl with mischievous brown eyes and a wide grin named Piper. She introduces him to Rachel and Percy, the leads, who he congratulates. She takes him to meet Annabeth next, who’s slightly intimidating but kind of nice when you talk to her more.

He learns the steps to The Bitch Of Living first. It looks harder than it is. Then he sits down with Piper and they run through the script. He doesn’t miss how her eyes travel after the lighting boy, Leo.

“You have a crush on him?” He teases. Piper blushes. 

“No, not at all. We’ve just been friends for a while.”

She clamps her mouth shut, indicating the conversation is over. Jason smiles anyway. 

It’s a good day, and he can’t wait for what comes next.

* * *

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

Malcolm sings the reprise of The Word Of Your Body perfectly. His voice ebbs and flows, sensual and pragmatic. Mitchell is sitting in front of him, smiling the way Ernst should be. It’s a small, butterfly inducing smile. He looks away from him.

“ _ Oh, you’re gonna be wounded, oh you’re gonna be my wound, _ ” Malcolm kneels in front of Mitchell. “ _ Oh, you’re gonna bruise too, oh I’m gonna be your bruise. _ ”

Then he’s supposed to kiss him. Mitchell’s brown eyes wait, his lips slightly ajar, up to meet Malcolm’s when he so chooses.

But Malcolm waits. He doesn’t mean to, honestly. He should surge forward and kiss Mitchell on cue, perfectly, like a professional. But he  _ can’t _ .

Mitchell’s eyebrows knit the slightest, Hestia calls the scene. Malcolm gets up and runs a hand through his hair. That was  _ way  _ too intense.

“Are you okay, Malcolm?” Hestia asks her student. Malcolm nods.

“I’m alright it’s just…I’m not used to…that.”

Understanding fills Hestia’s brown eyes. “It’s okay, Malcolm. We’re all out of our comfort zones with this, it’ll only help us as actors.”

Malcolm nods again, trying to keep that in mind as he gets back on stage. Mitchell’s wearing a leather jacket over a red shirt today. Something in Malcolm’s mind registers how attractive it is.

“Sorry about that,” Malcolm apologizes. Mitchell shrugs with a smile. Malcolm notices they’re around the same height.

“You’re good, Mal.”

His brain short circuits at the nickname. Mitchell notices because he laughs.

“If we’re gonna be love interests in this thing, I’m not calling you by your full name.”

Malcolm laughs, genuinely. “Thank you, for being patient with me, Mitchell.”

Mitchell bumps his shoulder fondly. “It’s no problem.”

They continue to talk, even in between scenes where Dionysus tells them to shut up. Malcolm learns that Mitchell’s mom is a big time fashion designer in the city, and he must have inherited her eye for design. He learns about Mitchell’s multiracial family. His parents are Caribbean, his stepfamily is Japanese, and he’s really close to all of them. He takes in so much information about Mitchell, he thinks about him days afterward.

When he picks his clothes in the morning, he vaguely registers whether Mitchell will like it.

When drops off papers for a teacher, he wonders if Mitchell’s in that class.

He can’t stop thinking about him. And he isn’t sure if he wants to stop.

* * *

Rachel’s wearing The Bright Place t-shirt when Percy arrives.

He gets there at 5:30, on the dot, smiling at the door. She brushes off imaginary dust from the white and yellow baseball style t-shirt before smiling back. She waves him over to the quiet room in the back.

“Apollo!” Rachel shouts into the storage room. “I’m taking my break!”

Her uncle shouts his consent, leaving Rachel and Percy to their own devices.

Rachel slides into a window seat, beckoning Percy to sit next to her as she pulls out her script.

“Happy to see you weren’t late,” she teases. Percy laughs. His tall form rests comfortably, the light making his black curls and brown skin shine.

Rachel looks away, busying herself in the book. “Alright, we can start at scene 6.”

They go back and forth for who knows how long. Percy occasionally stops to make a sarcastic remark that makes Rachel laugh ridiculously hard. They make progress but notably skip their more romantic scenes.

Apollo walks in around an hour later to see Rachel wiggling her eyebrows at Percy. He smiles.

“I ordered some pizza,” he calls out to them. Rachel beams. 

“Thanks, Apollo!”

They touch their pizzas like wine glasses and giggle like their little kids. Soon, dusk falls and the evening closes. Before he can leave, Rachel pulls him into a hug.

“I know this was technically set up to help you, but it helped me too,” she says when she pulls back. Percy smiles, his sea-green eyes twinkling. That feeling of warm butterflies settles in her stomach as she watches him skateboard away.

Then Rachel realizes with horror that she took too long of a break. 

“You jerk!” She pushes Apollo’s shoulder when Percy leaves. He quirks an eyebrow.

“What did I do?”

“You didn’t tell me my break was over!”

Apollo laughs with a shrug. “You deserved a longer break. You’ve been helping out a lot.”

Rachel smiles, then goes to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she says softly. Apollo nods and goes to lock up.

Rachel declines his invitation for a ride. She wants to think a little bit. The sun sets, sending a spray of pink and orange across the blue horizon. As she walks down the roads of Oracle Heights, a pair of sea-green eyes follow her. And she smiles.

* * *

Malcolm comes downstairs to see his mother staring him down.

Weekends are spent at Athena’s house, this is the arrangement. Annabeth is in the car already, she gets ready faster than he does. He furrows his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

Athena sighs. “Malcolm, you know I only want the best for you.”

He nods, taking slow steps forward. “And?”

“A lot of opportunities that should be available to you, aren’t, because of where you are. You know that you’ve been on the waitlist for Saint Francis Prep…”

Malcolm frowns. She isn’t saying what he thinks she’s saying, is she?

Athena smiles largely, fakely, deceptively. “You’ve been accepted! You’ll start next Monday.”

Then his entire world comes crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and criticism are always appreciated!


	5. i gotta new attitude and lease on life (and some peace of mind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A view on Percy's arrangement with his dad is given. Malcolm announces he's leaving Oracle High, Rachel sees something she wasn't supposed to see, Leo falls for Piper a little bit, and Hestia confronts Leo's foster parent.

Percy doesn’t know anything anymore.

He stands outside his mother’s business, staring at the “For Sale” sign perched on the yard. He wants to rip it out, shred it to pieces, but he doesn’t. He just stands and stares.

Sally exits the building with a sad smile. She stands next to them, and together they watch the unmoving sign. 

“It’ll be okay,” Sally says suddenly. Percy doesn’t know if she’s speaking to him or herself. 

She turns to him, a composed expression masking whatever she may be feeling. “Are you ready to go to your dad’s house?”

His father’s car is actually waiting for him in the parking lot. Thankfully, Poseidon doesn’t honk. He just lets Percy have his time.

Percy frowns. “Do I have to? I’d rather spend the weekend with you.”

“You know how this works,” Sally reprimands gently. “Your father loves you.”

His frown deepens into a scowl at the words. His mom tries to convince him of this all the time, but he knows that Poseidon thinks of him as a “Mini-Me”. Poseidon himself played basketball in high school and college, and he had been elated to hear his son was doing the same. He even had a room in his massive house dedicated to Percy’s many accomplishments.

“If he loves me, why doesn’t he help get  _ Sally’s _ back?” Percy demands. “It’s just…it’s not fair. Why does he get to live in comfort after he left us? And why do I have to pretend to like him after…”

Sally pulls her son to her in a steady embrace. “I know it’s difficult, but things will get better for us.”

_ When?  _ Percy wants to ask. He’s heard his mom’s calls. She’s looking for job offers out of town, out of state.

When do things get better?

Instead, he puts on a brave face and kisses his mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mom,” he says as he turns to walk to his dad’s car. She says it back, hugs him again and watches him go.

Percy prepares for the onslaught of questions about basketball, the judgment on theatre, and the face of his stepmother.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

* * *

Rachel was talking to Piper when it happened.

Piper was leading stretches on one corner of the floor, gabbing with Rachel about a physics assignment. Rachel rolls up to see Malcolm standing near the stage right exit. He looks nervous and he’s holding his backpack.

She waves, “Hey, Mal!”

He doesn’t notice at first, then he blinks, registering her voice, before waving back. Rachel frowns. 

“You good?” 

Malcolm looks at everybody’s face before taking a deep breath.

“Hey, everybody!” He projects his voice, and everyone is looking at him now. Rachel climbs on stage, wondering what he has planned.

He looks at Hestia, glancing at Rachel. “So, I’ve been on the waitlist for St. Francis Prep for a really long time. Like…for years, actually. Apparently, there’s an opening.” Horror descends on Rachel as he locks eyes with her. “I start next Monday.”

Murmurs erupt around the stage, Malcolm sighs and turns on his heel, out the door. Rachel blinks, dazed, before she storms after him. 

“Pace!” She shouts. He’s at the top of the stairs, and Rachel scales them in a second. He wipes a hand down his face.

“Rachel, please-”

“ _ How could you not tell me?! _ ” She’s way too loud, but she doesn’t care. “You’ve been my best friend since…since I  _ got  _ here! Why didn’t you _ tell me?! _ ”

Malcolm’s grey eyes plead with her. A flash of hurt crosses over Rachel’s face. 

“I can’t believe…” She pushes a hand into her hair, removes it, and stares at him. “Was it your mom? Is it because of  _ Hanschen _ ?”

“Rachel-”

“ _ Answer the question. _ ”

She waits for his answer but she doesn't get one. His lips withdraw into a thin line. Rachel nods, like she expected this reaction.

“I have to rehearse,” she says incredulously. She has to rehearse. Without him. 

“Rachel, wait-”

She runs down the steps and closes the door, leaving the blond boy alone with his thoughts.

* * *

At the news of Malcolm’s departure, Hestia has a lot to sort out.

Rehearsal might as well have not happened, everybody was too stunned. Malcolm was their best male actor, and he had been in drama since his freshman year. For him to suddenly leave…

Hestia thinks it’s interference from a parent. There is no other explanation.

Just as she’s drafting how to speak to Malcolm’s parents, Dionysus walks into the classroom in his usual rude, boisterous manner.

“This is on you,” he says. Hestia frowns and opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off.

“You know what I mean. This, Malcolm leaving, is on  _ you _ .”

Dionysus runs a hand over his greying hair, a rare moment of emotional sincerity. He focuses blue eyes, eyes full of rage, on her,

“You just had to do Spring Awakening,” he spits. “For your  _ vision _ .”

Hestia remains quiet. She knows it’s her fault,  _ she knows _ , and she’ll do everything in her power to fix it. 

* * *

Rachel’s had a terrible day.

She runs out of rehearsal, without Malcolm, without Piper, without Jason, without her usual friend group. She just wants to go home, do her homework, eat a lot, then call Malcolm and apologize in dairy induced regret.

But Rachel can’t have good things. She’s not  _ allowed  _ to have good things because she sees him. The one person she didn’t need to see, she sees. 

Percy is sitting on the brick wall, a couple of meters away from the big steps outside the back school exit. He’s sitting next to Annabeth, he’s sitting  _ really  _ close to Annabeth. She laughs and tightens her ponytail, turning her head away from him. He nods, a smile brightening his features. Annabeth hesitates for a second before leaning in and kissing him.

She kisses him.

And he kisses her back. 

Rachel quickly stuffs down the tight coil of unnamed emotion and briskly walks back into school. She can’t look at that right now, she just can’t.

As she fast-walks to the front entrance, Rachel feels the coil in her stomach wind tighter as she drives Apollo’s car back home. The coil grows hot as she does her homework, and it doesn’t release as she makes dinner. Apollo gets back from The Bright Place, where he led a lecture about Ancient Greek culture at seven.

“This is good,” he says as he takes another forkful of casserole. Rachel nods, picking at her food. She has a witty reply queued up in her brain, but she doesn’t have the energy to deliver it.

“You good, kid?” He asks.

Rachel looks up, then. Her eyes meet his. “Apollo, why are teenage guys so confusing?”

That might be a bad question because Apollo’s only twenty-three. His locs are tied back again, and golden brown skin is still bright under the kitchen table lights. He crosses his arms with a small grin.

“What brought this on?” 

Rachel shrugs. “Just…troubles.”

“What troubles?”

“You already  _ know  _ what troubles,” she deadpans. Apollo’s grin widens as he takes a home-made fry from the little tin. Some of them are slightly charred, but at least they taste good.

“Is it… _ Percy _ ?” He throws his head back to toss the fry in. Rachel rolls her eyes; Apollo seems to think he’s in Ancient Greece sometimes.

When Rachel doesn’t answer, Apollo takes this as an invitation to go on. 

“ _ Oh, my, oh my, _ ” he laments dramatically, throwing an arm on his forehead. “The tragic tale of your typical high school romance-”

“ _ Shut up. _ ”

“The talented, quirky,  _ absolutely beautiful _ girl-”

“I’ll kill you _. _ ”

“-falls in love with the handsome, charming, star sports player of the school! Is it  _ doomed? _ ”

Apollo stands up on his chair, pressing a hand to his heart as he paints a pained expression on his face. “ _ Will love prevail?! _ ”

Rachel boos and throws a series of fries at him until he gets down. “Your acting sucks! The people want Robert de Niro!”

“Shut up, I’m not the basic chic that fell in love with the star basketball player.” Apollo rolls his eyes. “Pack it up, Gabriella Montez.”

Rachel laughs so hard she almost falls out of her chair. She still chuckles as she loads the dishwasher. Apollo has a special talent for making Rachel laugh on bad days. 

As she does her homework, her phone buzzes with an alert. She checks it, it’s a reminder.

_ Call Mom and Dad. _

A scowl pulls at her lips as she stares at it. Rachel knows that if she doesn’t call them, they’ll find some reason to pull her out. The terms of Rachel staying in Oracle Heights were  _ very  _ clear. She had to call them once a week, she had to make straight A’s, she had to be involved in at least two extracurriculars (joke’s on them, she’s doing three), and Rachel had to decide her college major by Christmas.

Her parents are seriously pushing her to business and finances, something Rachel has repeatedly shut down. She wants to do something that matters and pursue her passion. Art, and maybe something in the field of mental health.

With rehearsals, though, Rachel’s reconsidering. Something in her has been longing for the stage ever since she got cast. A feeling of satisfaction always settles in her heart when she belts out a note, safety--the good kind-- is in her script.

Is that how it feels when you discover another passion? Is it supposed to be like a puzzle piece, snuggling into perfect placement? 

Rachel doesn’t know. She’s only sure of the fact that if she ever told her parents she wants to pursue musical theatre, they would send her to that private school they’ve been itching to ship her off to, Clarion Ladies Academy. They only entertained art because they thought she would keep it as a side gig.

Rachel opens her phone and goes to the FaceTime app. She presses her mother’s contact reluctantly and plasters on the beautiful smile that her mom likes to see.

“Rachel, hello!” Her mother picks up after the second ring. The older Dare is a social worker, and Rachel has a relatively friendly relationship with her. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Rachel answers her mother’s questions. They're the same ones about school, then her father comes into view.

“How are your grades?” He asks her. Rachel doesn’t even try to suppress her eye roll. 

“Great, how’s life?"

He doesn’t answer her. He has his work glasses on, which means that he didn’t even have the time to clear his schedule for a mandatory four-minute call. “Do you know what you’ll be doing in college?”

Rachel shrugs and her father frowns. “Young lady, you have until Christmas to decide. And if it’s any nonsense like art or theoretical idiocy then-”

“I know,” Rachel interrupts him. Anger flared in her chest, flashes in her eyes. Instead of blowing her top, she scoffs.

“I have homework to do,” she tells them. “I’ll let you get back to destroying wildlife and low-income housing, Dad.”

Then she cuts the call and throws her phone on her bed.

* * *

Leo watches her sing.

The Dark I Know Well is a song that requires finesse and attention to detail. Not everybody can pull it off, it might come off too gaudy or too apathetic. Only someone who truly understands pain can master The Dark I Know Well.

He watches Piper roll with each musical hill, run with each note. He watches her transform into an extension of herself in awe.

She has the voice of an angel. The  _ literal  _ voice of an angel.

Annabeth joins in, as Ilse is supposed to, but, in all honesty, he isn’t paying attention to her.

He has an idea, then. Leo glances at the lightboard, finds the control he’s looking for, then slowly turns it up. 

A cool-toned spotlight hits Piper (and Annabeth), then he tries to direct a warm-toned one to her. It garners the effect he wants. A mournful air surrounds her, but the gold undertones of her soft brown skin are highlighted. The song finishes and he turns off the warm spotlight, leaving the cool on for ten seconds before it snaps off.

He’s thinking of the metaphor in it all. The last of the optimistic light fades off, leaving the cold version, the one that Hannah will take in a dark period of her life. Then, because she must return back to the same place, she’s stranded in darkness.

The kids watching her erupt into applause, Leo can imagine his best friend’s shy blush.

“Shut up,” Piper calls out, her brown eyes sparkling. “It wasn’t even that good!”

Leo rolls his eyes and decides to speak into the auditorium’s speakers.

“Somebody deck Beauty Queen before I come down there and do it myself.” They laugh and Leo sits back in his chair.

Every single student in the auditorium gasps in unison. “The angels!” 

It’s a stupid overdone joke that they’ve cracked a million times. Still, Leo snickers.

"No, it's just me."

He decides to take a break from the lighting booth, then. He walks down the hundreds of steps to enter the auditorium. Leo feels dramatic when he throws open the door and spreads out his arms, so that’s exactly what he does.

“I’m back!” He hollers. Piper flips him off from the stage and he does the same thing.

“Screw you, Valdez!”

“You  _ wish _ , Beauty Queen!”

Hestia laughs from the pit. “Okay, okay, everybody on stage, we’re rehearsing Touch Me.”

Leo quirks an eyebrow as he watches. The choreographer, a tall woman who told them to call her Terry, went through it quickly. Unfortunately, it happened too quickly. Annabeth got slapped in the face by Katie, Rachel stepped on Lou Ellen’s foot, and it was a  _ nightmare _ .

He waits at the foot of the side stairs for Piper with a smirk and a bottle of water. She glares at him.

“Can it, Repair Boy.”

“No, no,” Leo shoves his hands in his pockets. The beginnings of a smile curl at his lips. “I’m just in awe of your amazing dancing skills, you know? You’re like…a freaking swan.”

“Please shut up.”

“You’re so graceful, Piper,” he teases. “You flow like the tides or some crap.”

Piper gives an ungraceful snort and snatches the water bottle from his hands. “Shut up, doofus. This is the first day we’re learning it.”

“And I’m sure it’ll get better,” Leo reassures her sincerely. When she smiles at him, something in his chest flips upside down, so he looks away.

They watch rehearsal together, cracking little jokes from the seats in the back. Something’s up with Rachel and Percy, their usual chemistry is replaced by a distinct coldness on Rachel’s part. A coldness that is so unlike her.

Leo exchanges a look with Piper, and they both shrug at the same time. Who knows what’s going on with them?

* * *

Hestia’s been researching.

Leo hasn’t told her where he ran away from, so Hestia hasn’t asked. That didn’t stop her from doing all the research she could, though.

Through the town’s records, she discovered that Leo’s last foster parent was a woman named Rosa. There was nobody after her that was said to have taken Leo in, so that was who she sought first.

Rosa lives in a small, white house close to the railroad tracks of Oracle Heights. As Hestia drives closer, she sees the weathered window panes and small, dry patches of grass. There’s a pop song blasting from the house and, to Hestia’s left, there’s a car in the backyard. If she squints, she can see the vague figure of a person sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Hestia parks, dusting off her sweater nervously and begins to walk toward the car. She taps on the window.

“Who’re you?” Rosa asks gruffly when she winds down the window. She has long, unruly, stock-straight black hair. Her skin is pasty against her black leather jacket. Hestia blinks.

“I’m here to speak about Leo-”

Rosa interrupts her with an eye roll and takes a drag of her cigarette. “I don’t want you judging me. I got two other brats to take care of, we’re fine.”

“I know, I know,” Hestia raises her hands innocently. “I’m not here to judge you, I just wanted to tell you that he’s staying with me. I also wanted to know that…he’s safe. He can’t stay with me forever so I want to know that if he ever returns here, he will be happy.”

She stares at the black-haired woman as she speaks. Hestia has met many people who have tried to push her over, and they were all unpleasantly surprised to learn her hidden talent of assertion. She raises an eyebrow.

“I will not drop Leo off in an unsafe situation,” she says firmly. Rosa looks her up and down, scoffs, then rolls up her window snarkily.

As she walks back to her car and starts the engine, Hestia formulates a plan. She can’t let Leo become another Ethan. He’s smart, caring, and hilarious. The young boy deserves better than to live a life of misery.

Even though Hestia had promised herself two years ago she wouldn’t try and take in another runaway kid, Leo’s different. Or maybe he’s not, and maybe that’s enough.

* * *

Percy has to sprint to rehearsal from basketball.

Chiron keeps pulling him out of rehearsal for one thing or another. The agreement had been that the basketball team could request him when they needed him, but they seemed to need him every five minutes.

In all fairness, a big game is on Friday. 

As he bursts through the stage right doors, into the wings, Percy can’t help but be reminded of Rachel. She’s been weird during rehearsals, she’s been tense and clippy with her words. It’s unlike her.

Percy checks that he remembered to wear deodorant, he did, before waving to his castmates.

“Sorry about that, guys!”

Hestia nods understandingly and waves over the ensemble from the stage. “Percy’s back, we’re gonna practice Word of Your Body, just Percy and Rachel.” She addresses the ensemble. “Use this time for a water break, if you don’t have water, the crate is in the back-”

She keeps shouting instructions and stage directions, until, finally, it’s just Percy and Rachel onstage. 

The choreography is out of his comfort zone. It’s slow, and it requires Rachel really close to him. In between moments where they’re not singing, Percy tries to talk to her.

“What did I do?” He mumbles, quietly so Hestia doesn’t pick up on it.

Rachel shrugs subtly, turning on cue in his arms. “It’s dumb.” She steps away from him, as far as she can so that their fingers can brush, and sings to the audience. Percy could listen to her voice a million times.

He pulls her back slowly, the way Melchior is supposed to. “If it’s from you, it’s not. I’m the dumb one here.”

“You’re not dumb,” Rachel scoffs after singing her part. Her red hair is tied behind her hair in a mid ponytail. The stray hairs kind of tickle his chin as she draws closer to him. “I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to you.”

“Percy, you’re supposed to find her hand! Slowly!” Hestia calls out over the music. He does as he’s told and lets his fingers slowly drift down her arm. He hopes she can’t hear his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Sorry, I should have asked,” Percy cringes. “Are you fine with that?”

Rachel’s lips quirk into a small smile when the song finishes. “It’s just my arm.”

“And it’s still your body,” Percy insists. He moves to step in front of her, trying to search her eyes for answers. “What did I do?”

Rachel crosses her arms, not breaking eye contact.

“Are you dating Annabeth?” She blurts out.

Percy’s eyes flicker to the blonde girl across the room. He looks back at Rachel’s who’s raised an eyebrow. 

“No, we broke up a while ago.”

Rachel smirks. “So, if you broke up, why were you playing tongue hockey four days ago?”

Percy presses a knuckle to his top lip.  Rachel had seen the kiss, but she hadn’t seen the part where Percy had pulled back with an apology.

He cringes at the visual her words painted anyway and Rachel laughs at him. “You know, I’m starting to think you dwell in chaos, Rache.”

“What gave it away?” She presses a hand to her chest dramatically. Percy can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he treads carefully, not to lose the friendly spot. “You aren’t mad at me anymore?”

Rachel shrugs, “I never was. Honestly, I’m trying to work out the way I feel about you. I’m sorry if it takes a long time, and I’m sorry if this is weird I just…I’m working things out.”

He dwells on what that means, then he nods. Percy can appreciate her honesty, it’s one of his favorite things about Rachel: her blunt, brutal, honesty.

Then he does something unexpected, he wraps his arms around her in a hug. “It’s not weird. You’re…one of my favorite people.”

When he pulls back, Rachel’s smiling. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not!” He protests. “It’s true!”

Her smile turns into a full-blown grin at his insistence. “Well, I’ll have you know you’re my third favorite person.”

“Who’s first and second?” Percy asks amusedly. They move off the stage to sit off to the side. Rachel drinks a sip of water from her bottle before answering.

“First is Malcolm, the second is Apollo,” she answers smugly. Percy scoffs.

“You’re really breaking my heart.”

“Why would I ever want to do that?”

They talk until they have to get on stage again. Before she can go, Percy catches her arm. 

“I’m having a victory party Friday night. At eight, my dad’s house,” he explains. She brushes a curl away from her face, something that momentarily distracts him before he speaks again. “It would be cool…if you came.”

Rachel smiles. “Should I bring someone?”

A flash of an inky, unpleasant emotion goes through Percy’s mind at the thought of Rachel bringing someone else. He pushes it aside and paints a smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure.”

She nods, then shoots a finger gun at him. “Alright, we need to get up there before Dionysus actually murders us.”

“He’d have to care enough to murder us,” Percy quips. Their voices trail off as they go on stage, ready to rehearse Touch Me again. “I’m thinking he’d film our deaths with a GoPro.”


	6. seek and i find i can sleep when i die

It’s his last day.

Malcolm gazes at the crowds of students in the hallway on Friday. There are green and black streamers hanging from wall-to-wall. It’s merely coincidental that his last day in school also happens to be Spirit Day.

He waits for Rachel by her locker and, as he waits, he notices Percy on the other side of the hallways sneaking glances at her. The school’s pride and joy is wearing his black and dark-green jersey, his black sneakers complimenting the look nicely. For some reason, Percy has green glitter in his jet black curls.

Malcolm knows that Rachel likes him. Hell, he probably knows it before she does. He can’t forget about Percy ditching her like that, though. As her best friend, he’s not supposed to forget.

So, while she’s distracted by rearranging her stuffy locker, Malcolm crosses the hallway to speak to Percy. Guy to guy, castmate to castmate. All fun and games.

“Hi,” he greets shortly. Percy has two inches on him, something Malcolm kind of resents when he’s trying to threaten him. He smiles in a friendly manner.

“Hey, Malcolm. What’s up?” Percy’s grin widens when a teammate passes him, dapping him up before turning his attention back to Malcolm. “Everything all right?”

Malcolm shrugs in an effort to be approachable. “Yeah! Yeah, I just noticed your interest in my best friend, Rachel. You’ve seen her, red hair, cute freckles, amazing voice?”

Percy nods and tries to suppress his smile. “Yeah. Rachel’s cool.”

Of course, the image description had been a test. Percy’s reaction to it means he passed but Malcolm doesn’t really care.

“She told me how you invited her to the victory party tonight.”

“Yeah, I did. Is she…taking you?”

Malcolm’s interest piques at the shade of jealousy that crosses his green eyes. He opts for honesty and not noble manipulation. He shakes his head.

“She’s not taking a date if that’s what you mean,” Malcolm snorts. He needs confirmation that Percy won’t hurt his best friend. That he actually cares about her.

So, in a manner that would make Rachel Elizabeth Dare herself proud, he says it straight up.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

Percy starts. His eyes focus on Malcolm, assessing his threat level. “Dude, I’m not gonna hurt her-”

“Are you still involved with my sister?” Malcolm asks him. Percy shakes his head, once, like the very idea is foolish. 

“I’m done with Annabeth.”

“Good. Because if you hurt Rachel…” He leaves the last part open to interpretation. Percy’s lips twitch as if he’s humoring him.

Malcolm nods again in a curt manner, then turns on his heel. He waves to Percy over his shoulder, already regretting his entire life. “Break a leg, basketball boy!”

Percy frowns behind him. “We don’t…we don’t say that in basketball.”

Still, the exchange leaves Percy smiling. He sees Rachel across from him. She’s talking to Malcolm, a black beanie covering her auburn curls. She has green and black stripes under her eyes, and the same colors smudging parts of her freckly brown face. Her paint-stained overalls drape over her form. Suddenly, she smiles. Bright, beautiful, and bursting with light.

He shakes his head and turns away before she can notice, but the smile doesn’t disappear.

* * *

“You know, it’s really depressing that you have to leave on the hypest day of the quarter,” Rachel points out as they walk to their classes. Malcolm can only shrug.

“What can you do?” 

“Stage a protest.”

“That only works for  _ you _ .”

The banter lets the conversation move from the sad topic of conversation. Rachel switches her backpack to her other shoulder as she speaks again.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” she says quietly. Malcolm peers at her from the side of his eye. He looks unbelievably smug.

“You’re still gonna see me at The Bright Place.”

Rachel groans loudly. “I know! It’s just not gonna be the same!”

He tosses her a grin. “It’ll be fine, Rache. I promise. Hey, I gotta get to my class. See you at rehearsal.”

He throws a wave over his shoulder as he picks up the pace. Rachel frowns before shouting something to him.

“You’re not gonna be able to say that anymore for very long, you know!

“I know!” Malcolm shouts back, a hint of a smile and a little bit of sorrow hidden in his voice.

* * *

“ _ I’m feeling glorious! _ ”

Rehearsal had been dubbed a “free workday” because of Percy’s game. Someone was playing music, and Glorious was playing while Percy rapped along and Rachel hyped him up. His other friend, Jason, was smiling. 

“The crib feeling Victorian!” The entire club screamed the lyrics along with him. Percy can’t help but laugh. 

“You know that we’ve been going in!” 

“Since we hopped out that Delorean!”

The club echoes him, “Delorean, yeah we win!”

Rachel rests her arm on his shoulder as she scream-sings loudly. Somehow, someway, it still ends up sounding amazing.

“I feel glorious, glorious, I got a chance to  _ start again. _ ” She switches pitch with ease. The smooth transition is impressive, and it leaves Percy stunned. Of course, half the club is singing the same thing but Percy can only hear her.

“I was born for this, born for this, it’s who I am.  _ How could I forget? _ ” She grins and pushes Percy’s shoulder. He turns his head to her as he quietly sings the words along with her. “I made it through the darkest part of the night, and now I see the  _ sunrise _ .”

“I feel glorious, glorious, I feel glorious,  _ glorious _ .”

He sees the smile in her green eyes right before it hits her mouth. She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Dork.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” He protests. Rachel flicks his nose with a smirk. Percy’s noticed that she has a million smiles for a million different circumstances. It’s a language he wants to be fluent in, adding  _ Rachel’s Smiles _ to Spanish and English.

“Isn’t that enough, though,” she teases. He scoffs but his lips betray him as they quirk up. 

They talk about the game. Rachel doesn’t know anything about basketball, not one thing, but she listens anyway. Occasionally, she makes a dumb joke that makes him laugh way too hard and she beams. The responsibility of cracking dumb jokes is split between them, so it’s only fair that they both laugh ridiculously at them.

After thirty more minutes, he needs to go to early practice. Rachel jumps down from the edge of the stage.

“You better win, alright?” She’s unapologetic with her words. Percy doesn’t mind the pressure from her. “If you don’t win, I might have to stop associating with you.”

Percy smirks. “Good thing I’ll win, then.”

“Yeah, good thing. I don’t know what you’d do without me,” Rachel shoots back. Percy laughs then pulls her into a confident side hug. 

“I might actually die.”

* * *

Jason holds his breath.

Their entire side of the  _ gym  _ holds their breath.

He watches Percy block a shot, and a nervous cheer erupts on their side. The Oracle Heights Serpents are tied with Mercury High School’s Hunters. In a nail-biting hour and a half long game, they were tied with a team they haven’t lost to since Jason was in diapers.

He takes off his glasses and cleans them. Piper’s eating popcorn, completely and utterly disinterested in the game, and watching Youtube videos with Leo. He rolls his eyes.

“Guys, c’mon, at least watch for Percy,” he says. He has to raise his voice, so they can hear him. Leo just grins.

“Percy’s fine, dude. What isn’t fine is this  _ very  _ incomplete vine comp.”

Piper interrupts him, throwing her hands to their air and spilling a couple of kernels of popcorn on herself. “How can they just say it features the most iconic vines when ‘ _ you spilled lipstick in my Valentino White bag’ _ isn’t even in there?! That’s preposterous!” 

Jason rolls his eyes with a smile and starts to pay attention to the game again. 

It’s all coming down to this. One of Percy’s teammates, notably the only girl on the team, Reyna, passes him the ball. Reyna had been Jason’s childhood best friend until a year ago when Jason had effectively isolated himself from everybody as he figured himself out. He regrets pushing her away, but he’s not sure if she’ll take him back.

Jason can make out the motions of a play at work. They successfully bob and weave through the grey and blue uniforms of the Hunters. The split-second decision, where he has to aim and shoot the ball, nears. Percy’s at the three-point marker, he shoots. He’s the point guard but he's the best position to shoot. It should be a breeze.

It should have been a breeze.

Everything begins to happen in slow motion. Chiron, in his green baseball cap and headset, almost loses his composure. Jason slaps his hands on top of his head. Even Piper and Leo seem completely and utterly baffled about how  _ Percy Jackson _ missed a three-pointer.

So Jason sits back down in his bleacher seat and prepares himself for overtime. While he watches, Piper taps his shoulder, the gleam of news showing in her eyes.

“Jason, Percy’s having a party at his house tonight.”

“Who told you that?” He asks with a frown. Piper shrugs.

“Malcolm told Mitchell who told Katie who told Austin who told Lou Ellen who told someone else then another person and a couple more people who told Leo then-”

“Alright, I think I get it,” Jason stifles a laugh. “Um, do you need a ride?”

“Well, yeah, but I also want you to come, dumbo.”

“Oh.”

Jason hadn’t been invited to many parties during his tenure at Oracle Heights High. Maybe it had to do with his status as the principal’s son. So he smiles and he nods.

In the period of time that Jason hadn’t been paying attention, someone steals the ball on the court. It seems to be in between the period when Jason smiled then blinked. It happens so fast.

The entire court erupts into groans. Jason frowns as he starts to pay attention to the game again, but it’s too late.

He looks at the scoreboard to see a 25-27 score. With the Hunters as the victors.

“There you have it, folks,” the disembodied voice exclaims. Jason thinks he’s a little rude considering the circumstances. “Percy Jackson! The junior joke!”

* * *

The “victory” party is a bust.

Percy watches the depressing sight of his team. _His_ team.

Reyna is chatting with Frank near the TV, Chris hasn’t arrived yet, Travis is sipping a can of Sprite, and everybody else is equally depressed about the loss.

Percy burns with the memory of the announcer’s words.  _ The junior joke _ . If he was going to insult him, he might as well come up with better material.

His father slides near him on the kitchen counter. Poseidon glances over the twenty kids gathered in his house before looking back at his son.

“You lost their trust out there, son,” he says. Percy glares at him, the vitriol in his eyes makes Poseidon flinch slightly. “Talk to them, get them back.”

Percy sighs and pushes himself up reluctantly. He hates to admit it, but his father is right. His friends are counting on him, even if they hadn’t won, they still needed to get up.

“Hey, guys.” 

The team turns to look at their point guard. It’s too silent, Percy looks all of them in the eye.

“We lost today,” he begins. “I lost it. I let you guys down and I don’t want you to beat yourselves up about it. It was on me.”

Travis has the audacity to nod, but Percy ignores that and keeps talking. 

“But I got your back. I’ve got Reyna’s back,” he meets her serious, dark, brown eyes and nods. She smiles a little. “I’ve got Dakota’s back,” he jostles Dakota’s shoulder good-naturedly. “I’ve got _your_ back, and _your_ back, I’ve got  _ all  _ your backs.”

Percy was scared it wouldn’t work, but he senses the tense energy being replaced by comradery. He flashes that lop-sided grin.

“Now, who’s gonna beat Jupiter next Friday?”

“We are,” the room mutters. Percy scoffs. 

“Didn’t I ask you a question?” He crosses his arms. “Now,  _ who’s gonna beat Jupiter next Friday?! _ ”

“We are!”

Even Reyna, who’s calm, collected, and generally done with the boys’ nonsense, is on her feet. Percy wraps his arms around his teammates and laughs.

“We’ve got this, guys!” He looks at each of them in the eye. “I’m your guy, alright? I’m not letting you down again.”

There’s a knock on his door. Percy thinks it’s Rachel and, when he opens the door, he’s pleasant to see it’s her.

She’s teased her red-brown hair into a high ponytail. She’s wearing a non-paint stained grey t-shirt tucked into light blue, ripped jeans cuffed at the bottom. She’s holding cookies from Wal-Mart.

“I didn’t know how depressed everybody would be so I brought crack cookies from Wal-Mart,” she explains. Percy smiles.

“Get in here, Rache.” 

Rachel waves at his teammates. “Hey, guys and singular girl,” Reyna laughs at that, “I’m Rachel. Um, Percy invited me.”

Malcolm clears his throat from behind her, startling Percy. “She needed a ride, which is why I’m here too.”

The blond raises a knowing eyebrow at Percy, who shrugs. “These are my friends from rehearsals. They’re cool, don't worry.”

Rachel has been pulled into a conversation with Dakota and Travis. Reyna is laughing again at something the redheaded girl said. Percy watches Rachel defrost the wary air surrounding her. 

Malcolm taps his shoulder. “Okay, Percy, just a warning. I may have accidentally invited our entire troupe.”

Percy processes that. It takes a minute for the full meaning to dawn on him and when it does, he slices an incredulous look at him. “How do you ‘accidentally’ invite the entire cast here? And why?”

Malcolm cringes. “I had to tell Katie that I’m canceling on our study session and she took it upon herself to blab to someone else and then-”

Percy waves him silent. His eyebrows raise in stress. He can feel a headache coming on. 

“Just tell me…how bad is this gonna be?” He sighs. Malcolm shuts his eyes.

“They think it’s a theatre party-” Percy interrupts the blond boy with a groan. He wants to bash his head against his father’s dark blue accent wall.

“-and theatre kids are always on time.”

Percy groans louder, hoping that the end result won't be as bad as he's imagining.

* * *

Rachel is leaning on a wall in the corner, Percy facing her as they watch the unexpected party.

“So you’re telling me that Malcolm invited-”

“ _ The whole cast, _ ” Percy says with her. She watches him wrinkle his nose at the music choice. Someone’s playing Beetlejuice, the Broadway production. The worst part is that people are singing along while anybody in a green and black jersey looks like they'll escape at the first opportunity. Rachel has to cringe.

“I hate theatre kids,” she mumbles. Percy laughs shortly. Rachel cups her hands over her mouth.

“Alright, who has the speaker and where can I fight them?!” She hollers. Nobody answers but it makes Percy laugh again, which makes it worth it.

The drama department of Oracle Heights had effectively taken over the party. Poseidon’s huge house is starting to look crowded. Every kid on the basketball team was uncomfortable with the boundaryless ways of the theatre students. Rachel was uncomfortable with the turn of events.

“You want me to tell them to scram?” She asks him softly. Percy shakes his head wearily. 

“Nah, this is already happening. I’m gonna have to deal with it.”

He rests his head on the wall. Rachel continues to watch people. 

Reyna is trying to inch away from Lacy, who is chatting up a storm. There’s a singalong in the living room. Rachel doesn’t know why but Katie is wearing a basketball jersey.

Her line of vision moves to the opposite corner of the room. Jason is talking to some bench warmers named Octavian and Michael Kahale. He looks uncomfortable, while the other two boys are grinning wickedly. Rachel bumps Percy’s shoulder.

“Something’s going on over there,” she nods in the direction of Jason. He looks like he wants to run away. Percy frowns.

Rachel walks over to the area. Leo is standing by the side, trying to tell them to cut it out.

“Jason,” Rachel looks at Jason meaningfully. A ‘help’ is written in his sky blue eyes. She stuffs her hands in her pockets as her eyes flicker over Octavian and Michael. “You good?”

Jason nods, but Octavian still smirks. 

“So,” he addresses Rachel. “I see you’ve come to rescue Jason. He’s not strong, you know. He’s rather  _ soft _ .”

Before he can get out another word, Percy’s staring down at the short boy. “I think you should can it, Octavian.”

Octavian looks Percy up and down before glancing at Jason. “He’s not even a real man. He can’t even defend hims-”

It happens in a flash. Jason surges forward, pushing Octavian into the wall roughly. Rachel and Leo jump to hold him back, Percy gets in between the two boys.

“Break it up!” He shouts. 

“So this is who you choose?!” Octavian screams. “You choose your precious theatre over us?!”

It’s not true, but Octavian turns Percy’s teammates anyway. Blaise mutters to Reyna, glaring at the point guard. Poseidon stands off the side, watching it unfold.

“You know that’s a lie, Octavian,” Percy says lowly. Octavian smirks.

“They believe it, though.”

Percy watches each of his teammates register the shock, a look of unified disgust at their leader crosses their faces. 

“Guys-” 

He tries to reach out to them to no avail. It seems like they went from zero to one hundred to a crisis. The players pack up and start to leave.

“Guys, please.” Desperation leaks into Percy’s voice. His shoulders sag as they ignore him and file out the door.

He roughly pushes Octavian and Michael toward the door. “Party’s over, guys.”

Percy speaks louder, speaking to all the theatre students that had stopped singing to watch. “The party’s over, go home!”

They still watch him. A new side of him, one that they’ve never seen, unfolds. It’s full of authority, and rage.

“What part of go home do you not understand?!” Percy shouts impatiently. He immediately regrets it, but it works. Soon, the house is empty, leaving all the trash to Percy to clean up.

The only person that stays is Rachel. She doesn’t say anything, just helps him clean up. Percy appreciates it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so about that scene in the middle where the entire club is just singing that one song....theatre kids do this. we literally do this. except we do this when we're supposed to be rehearsing, in our free time, when we're supposed to shut up.
> 
> we do this.


	7. wanna piece of the pie, got the keys to the ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and i'm straight_
> 
> The party's over, Poseidon exchanges a few words with Rachel and Percy does something he regrets.

Percy went somewhere, Rachel doesn’t know where.

She’s alone and picking up wrappers when Poseidon Seaver approaches her. He’s a tall man, even taller than Percy. He has vibrant brown skin like he spends a lot of time on the beach. His sea-green eyes are similar to Percy’s, but his are bluer. For some reason, he’s wearing a cap indoors.

From what Percy’s told her about him, Rachel wants to be careful.

She greets him politely. “Hi, Mr. Seaver,” she says pleasantly. She looks him in the eye and smiles. “Percy’s told me a lot about you.”

Poseidon smiles back. “All good things, I hope.”

She nods politely, even though he’s said a total of nothing good about his biological father. Still, she continues.

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks. She instinctively moves to brush a curl away from her face, a bit startled to find nothing.

Poseidon shakes his head. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong, Rachel. I just wanted to remind you of something.”

He gestures for her to follow him, and Rachel hesitantly follows. She subtly checks to see that her keys are in her pocket, ready to defend herself should anything weird happen.

He takes her to a room full of trophies. There’s a green jersey pinned to the wall, pictures of a brown-skinned boy on a court. The statues are placed on pedestals of various heights. Rachel has to crane her head to view them all.

“You were good,” Rachel muses. Poseidon chuckles.

“I was good,” he agrees. “ _ Percy _ is great.”

The meaning dawns on her. This isn’t the room Poseidon goes to relive the glory days, it’s Percy’s. She walks over to a picture of a small boy with a too-big afro and a gap in his teeth. He’s holding a basketball with a grin and wearing an oversized black penny. She smiles at the younger Percy.

“He’s talented and dedicated. Percy can go places I never got to go.” Poseidon fixes his intense gaze on Rachel. “ _ If _ he stays focused.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow as her mind grasps the meaning of his words. Poseidon turns away and continues to examine each memory in the room.

“A good friend will let him pursue what’s important. He needs to remember what really matters in life.”

He doesn’t speak to her again, lost in the timeline of each award. Rachel purses her lips, blinks a couple of times, then leaves.

She knows he’s talking about and to her. She’s a distraction for Percy.

He needs to get into a good college. Basketball is his chance. She can’t just steal that from him, it’s selfish.

_ Rachel  _ is selfish.  _ So  _ selfish. But, with Percy, she can’t be anymore.

* * *

When Rachel finds him, he has his head in his hands on his desk.

“Hey, Percy?”

For some reason, he can’t stand to hear her voice. The emptied house only serves the purpose of making him even more frustrated. He’s on edge, he’s mad, and he’s not thinking straight.

Percy doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t want to get mad at Rachel, she doesn’t deserve that.

Rachel chews her lip. “Um, I’m going to go. Alright?”

The words are simple, and they’re a courtesy. Still, he scoffs. 

“Then go.” He says hotly. It’s rude,  _ he’s  _ rude.

Rachel frowns. “I know you need time, but-”

Percy throws his hands into the air, looking at her with a bitter, sarcastic smile. “But what? What, Rachel? I’m sorry,  but  you don’t know what I’ve just sacrificed for this theatre thing. I...I just…”

Then he laughs, softly. “You can go.”

Rachel blinks at him. Then she nods calmly. Wordlessly, she leaves the room. Seconds later, Percy hears the front door close.

He regrets everything. He wishes he could call her back, let her know he’s wrong for saying that, but she probably already knows. 

Percy drops his head into his hands and wonders how he’s ever going to fix this.


	8. i'm on my wave, i'm on my wave, get out my wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _i'm runnin late, what can i say?_
> 
> Rachel and Percy make up, Malcolm talks to his parents about going back to OHHS, and Dionysus pisses off the orchestra director

“What happened between them,” Hestia whispers to Dionysus. The co-director watches Percy and Rachel with a frown.

Percy isn’t into it, he keeps apologizing and sighing. Hestia knows all about the game on Friday, she had been there. Percy isn’t used to losing, he isn’t used to giving things away. The poor boy is a mess. 

Rachel seems like she’s waiting for something. She goes along with it, she plays her part, but there’s a notable strain between the two teenagers.

The most important scene between Melchior and Wendla is the reason for the rehearsal. It’s only Percy and Rachel, everybody else is at home. Percy looks at Rachel meaningfully.

“Is it okay if I put my hand here?” He asks her, out of character. Rachel nods and Percy rests his hand on her hip. They’re kneeling on the floor, facing each other. Rachel has her hands on his forearms. It’s what they’re supposed to do, but there’s an unresolved air between them.

“Okay, Rachel, sweetie, slide your hands up to rest on his chest,” Hestia instructs. Rachel does as she’s told. There’s uncertainty. “Percy, you’re supposed to lean in. Rachel, you pull back.”

Percy does so mechanically, and Rachel plays her part a little bit too well. Then Rachel closes her eyes and looks at Percy with a sad smile. Rachel whispers something to Percy, something that makes Percy start, his face blanches in response. Rachel nods, once, and doesn’t break eye contact with him. Percy swallows.

It looks like a confession. Hestia frowns as she watches them; it isn’t in the script. She can’t hear a word of what they’re saying. 

“Do you two need a break?” She calls to them. They pull apart quickly, both of them caught in a moment. Percy nods and the two walk in opposite directions. Never, in the two months they have been working on this musical, has Hestia seen them so tense.

“They need to fix this,” Dionysus hisses to her. Hestia nods, watching Rachel tuck a red curl behind her ear as she takes a drink of water. By her body language, Hestia can tell she’s a little bit embarrassed. Percy’s on the other side, watching Rachel longfully.

She sighs, slouching in her seat and tapping her clipboard with her orange pencil. “They really do.”

* * *

Malcolm slaps an Uno card on the table with a smirk.

“Uno,” he says with a laugh. Athena chuckles and passes the bowl of cookies to him. 

Malcolm had roped his mother, father, and Annabeth into a game of Uno. Things weren't very good between his parents but Annabeth loves his dad. Fortunately, after five minutes they were all laughing.

His plan is to ask to return to Oracle Heights High School. He’s spent a week at Saint Francis Prep and he truly, sincerely, hates it.

Every single rich snob in New England is gathered at Saint Francis. There are kids who have a summer house in Spain and a winter home in Switzerland. There are kids who sincerely believe that not being able to own the latest iPhone is the pinnacle of difficulty. The navy blue and grey uniforms only add to the stifling atmosphere of the private school.

Malcolm wants out.

He pushes the plate of cookies an inch to the right. He wets his lips as he glances between his parents, tapping his knee.

“I want to return to Oracle High,” he says firmly. Athena exchanges a look with his father. Her mouth settles into a thin line. Annabeth squeezes her brother's hand under the table, something he's grateful for.

“Malcolm, Saint Francis is an opportunity for you.”

He nods. “Yeah, I know, but I checked the website and it said that if you leave within ten days it’ll refund the tuition and I’ve only been there for a couple of days and-”

“My decision is final,” Athena cuts him off. Her voice drops dangerously low. Malcolm blinks. Annabeth subtly stares over her phone.

He opens his mouth to speak, to try one last point, but his father interrupts him. Malcolm turns to stare at his father in shock, thinking he’s about to take her side. Even Annabeth's surprised.

“Our son is trying to communicate with us,” Tristan states quietly. “Athena, you need to listen to him.”

His jaw almost drops. Athena fixes her steely gaze on his father.

“Really? So you’re going to fight me about this in front of him?” The question is more of a statement, a little bit of a challenge. Tristan nods, unbelievably. Malcolm’s eyes dart between his parents like he’s watching a tennis match.

“It’s not fair to him,” his father argues. “It’s his life, and if he wants to return, he should be able to return.”

A muscle jumps in Athena’s jaw. Her grey eyes bore into her former husband and teenage son. Her blond hair is pulled into a tight ponytail. She raises her hands in concession.

“Fine,” she smiles bitterly. “Go back to Oracle High.” Then she gets up and walks out of the house. 

Malcolm wants to shrink in on himself. Even if he technically won, he didn’t want to win like this. Not with his mother upset with him and his parents at odds again.

His father ruffles his hair fondly before making his way to his study. Malcolm can only sit at the dining table and feel himself grow smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left of him at all.

* * *

Leo cringes at the music.

We’ve All Got Our Junk is an incredibly important song. It’s probably his favorite in the entire musical. The medley of instruments are supposed to combine and flow.

It’s safe to say that is not happening.

He stands next to Hestia, watching the mess. Mrs. Euterpe, a name pronounced much easier than it looks, directs the orchestra. There’s no combination, or flow, just dissonance. 

The cast isn’t faring very well, either. With the lacking instrumentals, the vocals suffer, too. Piper leans against the piano, her lips twitching as she tries to hold back a snort.

They finish, and Mrs. Euterpe smiles proudly. “Amazing job, class! We’ve improved!”

Leo snickers and the music teacher shoots him a dirty look. “We will meet at the same time on Friday!”

Piper quickly joins Leo as they file out of the side doors. She groans.

“It’s hopeless!” She says. “We’re never gonna get it down. We _suck_.”

“Don’t talk like that, Beauty Queen,” Leo pushes her shoulder. “You guys are gonna get better, I promise. Opening night isn’t till February.”

Piper sticks her bottom lip out anyway. “I know, it’s just…this is hard. The theatre department is super underfunded, and it _really_ shows.”

Leo nods. “I don’t know what Mrs. Euterpe is doing, but maybe it’ll work. She probably just needs more time.”

Piper reluctantly agrees. Her bangs flop in her face, her hair is growing out from the choppy haircut she gave herself a year ago. 

“You need to recut your bangs,” Leo says. His voice is laced with amusement. Piper shrugs.

“I kinda wanna let it grow,” she replies. “I’m trying to get back in touch with my culture and stuff. Hair is kind of important to us so...yeah.”

She looks embarrassed. Her cheeks turn red, something Leo finds adorable. 

“I think that’s amazing,” he tells her quietly. Soon, he’s blushing too because Piper looks at him with a radiant expression.

“Really?”

He smiles at her. “Really.”

* * *

Dionysus marches to the school’s basement, where the music department is housed.

The lights flicker slightly, and the black, painted, music notes are starting to fade to a dark grey. He walks down the steps, into a long hallway. At the very end of it, is Mrs. Euterpe’s classroom.

He hears the sound of We’ve All Got Our Junk before he enters, which is slightly reassuring. 

“Mrs. Euterpe!”

He paints a cheery grin on his face, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he examines the class. Mrs. Euterpe waves back, her baton in hand.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pollux,” she responds good-naturedly. “As you can see, we are rehearsing for your production.”

“May I watch?” He asks. Mrs. Euterpe nods. 

“Five, six, seven, eight!”

He listens. It’s a little bit too slow, so he waves to the class to finish. Mrs. Euterpe frowns, registering the shock of being silenced.

“Is it alright if you pick up the pace a bit?” He motions with his hands, something the gray-haired woman does not appreciate. She hesitates.

“We have to learn the notes before we do that, Mr. Pollux. I am sorry but-”

“Yeah, okay.” Dionysus plucks the baton out of her hand and turns to the class. “Class, I think we should try something new. Speed up the tempo a bit, just have fun with it!”

The students nervously look amongst themselves before shrugging. Dionysus grins madly. “Okay, five, six, seven, eight-”

He claps out the tempo for them, and they rush to keep up. It sounds much better to the assistant director’s ears. Mrs. Euterpe looks offended. 

He turns to her with an expectant smile when the song finishes. The students look surprised at the change. To him, they look invigorated.

“Now, how was that?”

* * *

Hestia tosses a piece of paper on his desk.

“What did you do to make Mrs. Euterpe quit as our band director?” She demands. Dionysus raises an eyebrow, shutting his laptop and grabbing the printed piece of paper.

“ _Due to creative differences and workplace disrespect, I will no longer be allowing my orchestra to work in your production._ ” He skims the paper, growing incredulous with every word.

He looks at Hestia nonchalantly. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

Hestia crosses her arms, not buying it. “Did you say something to her?”

“Of course not!”

Her blank stare only increases in severity, making the other man shudder. 

“Fine, fine!” He lifts his hands sheepishly. “I may have instructed her students in an impromptu appearance.”

When Hestia doesn’t let up, he sighs. “Okay, I took over her music class.”

“Dionysus...” Somehow, the ever-patient woman is kind and composed. “How bad was it that you caused her to quit?”

Dionysus tries his best to look apologetic. “I may have taken the baton right out of her fingertips, encouraged her students to forgo the sheet music, and told her it was better this way.”

Hestia clenches her fist tightly. Dionysus smiles nervously. 

“Apologize to her,” she finally says. Her voice comes out tired, steady, and calm. “She is the only music teacher in this school, and it is a miracle that she even agreed to help us with this.”

The dark-skinned woman packs up her things, shooting another look to Dionysus at the door.

“ _Fix this._ ”

* * *

Percy finally texts Rachel.

He stands on the roof of an office complex. It offers an amazing view of the rest of the town. The grey, steel tops of the buildings touch the blue sky. There’s a view of a forest in the far distance. The steel mill puffs white vapor into the air.

He’s incredibly nervous, and he doesn’t even know if she’ll come. Of course, it’s Rachel, so she’s not mean or petty. Percy’s just scared he pushed her away for good.

The wind whips at his head, chilling his bones. He’s wearing a black bomber jacket and jeans, though it does little to resist the cold.

After five minutes of waiting, five minutes of pacing the length of the roof, running his hands over his hair, and regretting everything in his life, a voice speaks to him.

“How long have you been up here?” Rachel teases him, even in the tense time. Percy turns to look at her. She’s wearing a yellow sweatshirt with a bee on the chest patch. Her jeans have tears in the knees and paint smudges all over them. Her red hair is left to be tousled by the moving wind. The yellow looks good on her brown skin. He smiles.

“Um,” he pretends to check a watch. “Twenty minutes.”

She looks horrified. “I’m so sorry! Was I supposed to come earlier or something because you texted me five minutes ago and I-”

The last thing he wants is for Rachel to think it’s her fault, so he shakes his head vigorously. “No, no! It’s not on you! I just...really needed to think about what I wanted to say.”

Rachel's eyes take a downcast shade at the reminder of last weekend and two rehearsals ago. She had told him she likes him when they were supposed to kiss. Hestia had called the scene and told them they could go home, so they hadn’t gotten the opportunity to talk.

“What do you wanna talk about, Percy?” She shrugs. An unreadable smile graces her lips. “I like you. A lot. There's not much to discuss.”

Percy looks at her for a second, just because he can. She breaks eye contact awkwardly and turns to the view. 

“I come here sometimes,” he explains. “I just like to look at the town. What it looks like from a different perspective.”

Rachel nods. “It’s an amazing view.” She whistles with the wind, and an easy-going smile lifts the curves of her mouth. “I kinda wanna paint it.”

Percy turns to her. He waits for her to stop looking at the scenery, to notice him.

“I’m into you,” he confesses. “I’m _really_ into you.” Rachel’s smile widens as she listens to the words pour out of his lips. Of course, she knows he likes her back, she’s just been waiting for him to admit it.

“I’m into you on stage.” He hesitantly reaches for her hand. “I’m into you off stage.” He looks her up and down playfully, laughing silently. “Honestly, I’m into you right now.”

Rachel laughs, tilting her head to the side slightly. Her green eyes sparkle as she steps closer to him.

“I’m gonna be into you when the show is over,” he gestures in between them. “Because this isn’t just acting. This is real.”

“And what happens next?” She dares him. Their faces are only a couple inches away from each other. Rachel stands on her tippy-toes, a tease of what she’s about to do.

He has to restrain himself from closing the gap. Still, it’s just Rachel and the sky behind her as he responds. “Whatever you want, Rachel.”

She flashes him one of her smiles that says she’s going to do something they’re both going to love. Then she captures her lips in his, moving her hands to curl in the shoulder fabric of his jacket. His hands settle on her hips, not a care in the world as they kiss slowly.

One second, they’re kissing on the roof, letting the wind whip and the entire town move on. The next day, they’re in rehearsal and smiling into each other’s eyes as they perform the iconic scene that closes Act One.

It’s tamed down, for the sake of their dignity and innocence, but that doesn’t make it any less heavy. When Rachel--or Wendla-- stops the kiss abruptly, Percy pulls off the essence of Melchior’s desperation perfectly. 

Melchior is a pretentious douchebag, Hestia notes, and Percy somehow gets it perfectly.

Wendla is a nervous fourteen-year-old, and Rachel, at the big age of seventeen, understands that too.

“What are you afraid of?” He asks her intensely. “Loving?” 

Rachel stutters, perfectly in character and extremely unlike her. He pulls her closer, lets their lips graze, says his lines, and kisses her, right on cue. She melts, all the way down to the floor, to the position on the cover of their scripts.

“It’s just me,” Percy says, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes,” She breathes, cupping his face to kiss him again. When they pull away, they look at each other for a good second before bursting into laughter. Rachel pulls herself up on her right arm and clutches her stomach with her left, her red curls a little messy. Percy can’t contain his giggles as he lies flat on his back. Hestia smiles at their glee.

Hestia exchanges a look with Dionysus at the sight. It’s perfect. The chemistry, the acting, the timing. Everything is perfect. 

_They’re_ perfect. 

* * *

Dionysus enters the band room when everybody starts leaving.

The kids either shoot him a glare or give him an excited thumbs up, their age levels widely playing a role. He blinks at them before making his way to Mrs. Euterpe. When she sees him, she visibly rolls her eyes.

“Is there anything you require, Mr. Pollux,” she asks stiffly. Dionysus bows his head.

“I do deserve that,” he concedes. “I came to apologize for my behavior in your class. It was disrespectful.”

She stares at him blankly. For a good, uncomfortable, minute, Mrs. Euterpe just stares at the theatre director.

“Do you know how long I have been a music teacher?” She asks him quietly. Dionysus can say something very rude, but he decides against it.

“How long?”

“Longer than you have been here,” she sniffs. She begins to collect her notes for the day as she packs up. Dionysus’ eyebrows furrow.

“I have a system, one that has never failed me, not once. Then, you barge in with your ‘feel the music’ nonsense, so nobody even bothers to learn the notes!”

Dionysus manages a practiced flinch, to induce pity. “I know, Mrs. Euterpe, and I sincerely apologize for my actions. But do not let my foolishness be the downfall of this show.”

Mrs. Euterpe scoffs and begins to walk toward the door. Dionysus moves to block it.

“Mrs. Euterpe,” he clasps his hands in front of him. “This is bigger than me, and it is bigger than you. It’s about these kids, it’s about all the hard work they’ve been putting in. Please, put aside any grudge you should rightfully hold against me, and think about these kids.”

The older woman looks at him, stares at him. Her lips settle into a fine, thin line. Dionysus doesn’t back down.

“Fine,” she sighs. Dionysus makes his eyes flood with gratefulness. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Euterpe.” He pats her shoulder awkwardly, at which she raises a thin eyebrow. He carefully takes his hand off her shoulder.

As he leaves, he waves at her. “Thank you again!”

* * *

When Malcolm walks into rehearsal, he expects shouts and screams.

“Malcolm!” Rachel screeches, jumping off the stage to meet her best friend. “You’re back!”

Soon it’s not just her, it’s Katie, Jason, Piper, Percy, Annabeth, and the entire cast. He spots Hestia pressing a hand to her chest at the heartwarming sight.

“So, my parents let me come back,” he says excitedly. “What did I miss?”

He looks over their faces to realize that someone is missing. Someone with brown eyes, killer fashion sense, and calls him “Mal”.

“Where’s Mitchell?” 

He only needs to crane his neck a little bit to see the dark-haired boy on stage. He doesn’t run to meet him, he doesn’t even smile.

He just stares at him, brown eyes boring into his grey with a million questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE bish. i bet u thought u'd seen the last of me 😎 
> 
> yall thought i abandoned this fic when, in reality, i simply left it for a couple days to keep my readers in anticipation 😌


	9. i heard you die twice, once when they bury you in the grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm starts something with Katie to avoid his feelings for Mitchell, Jason tries to reconnect with Reyna, and Percy gets benched.

When Katie approaches him, Malcolm doesn’t know what to say.

Her request to see a new movie takes him by surprise, even though it shouldn't.

It’s a little bit unfair to her, but Katie isn’t a bad person. She’s pretty, with sparkly brown eyes, sun-tanned skin, and light brown hair with wispy bangs. She has an earthy, gentle, vibe to her and she's a nice person to be around.

But when Malcolm looks at her, he sees what he _should_ feel. He sees a smirk and sharp eyeliner around deep brown eyes. He sees a ghost of what he feels for someone else. If Katie is like walking into a childhood bedroom after years of absence, only to find it remodeled; you _should_ feel at home in that bedroom, but you can't. It leaves you wondering you could ever feel at home in such a place.

Malcolm knows who he is, though. Most importantly, he's not an idiot. If he can spend enough time around Katie, he'll eventually develop feelings for her. Attraction is merely a chemical imbalance in the brain, and it can be triggered by anyone. 

Maybe if he gets himself to like her, it will get his mind off someone else too. Something’s been happening to him every time he runs a scene with Mitchell. It’s like he’s being drawn with a magnet as fog goes through his brain. He finds himself getting lost in his eyes, shivering like it’s two degrees when he touches his arm.

By all logic and reasoning, those feelings directed toward Mitchell should go away after a couple of months with Katie. Katie's a solution to a problem that's been pestering him for months. Two plus two equals four. Katie plus himself equals no more Mitchell.

With his reasoning sorted out, and a clear goal in mind, Malcolm smiles at her. He watches Katie visibly relax as nods.

"I'm free this weekend," he offers. Katie grins.

"Me too."

* * *

When he tells Rachel about it, she’s even more shocked than he was. 

“So you’re going out with Katie Gardner?” She asks him as they walk to her house. Her red hair is tied back with a white bandana, multiple watercolors seep through the thin fabric. She raises an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s new.”

Malcolm shrugs and pulls his sweater around him closer. November just started, and that means the weather in New York has reached wintry temperatures. He doesn’t want to go home, where his father would blatantly refuse to turn up the heat, so he opts to hang out with Rachel.

“She’s a nice girl,” he says cooly. Rachel gives him a weird look.

“Mal, you don’t date someone because ‘they’re a nice girl’, you date them because you want to.” She states the obvious, but Malcolm rolls his eyes anyway.

“Rachel, it’s just a movie. I’m not leading her on or anything, I’m just getting to know her.” 

She looks at him again, he mirrors her expression mockingly. Rachel purses her lips.

“Fine, but if you don’t like her, then don’t let it continue. It’s not fair to either of you.” 

She opens the door to her house for him without another word on the matter. Still, her warning rings like a bell in Malcolm’s ears. 

* * *

Jason waits outside of basketball practice.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, honestly. His baseball hat sits backward on his head, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his varsity jacket. Everything will be fine, it’s fine. He’s only trying to reconnect with his childhood best friend after a year of ignoring her.

Yes, this is _fine_.

He sees her. She’s sweaty and guzzling a water bottle, a Nike headband wrapped around her hairline. Her long, dark, hair is in a braid tied like a high ponytail.

When she sees him, her eyes visibly widen before cooling like metal. 

“Reyna, wait!” Jason runs after her, trying to keep up with her fast pace. She opts to walk around the school grounds, purposefully making Jason suffer. “Please, I just want to talk."

Reyna spins around, her brown eyes flashing. “ _Now_ you want to have a conversation? After a year of pushing me away, after I  _ tried  _ to talk, you want to do this now ?”

Her voice is raspy from practice, but Jason notices that her voice is steadier than it was a year ago. Jason smothers every observation, ever regret, and tries to push out the words. “I’m sorry, I was figuring things out and I just-”

“I don’t wanna talk to you,” she snaps. “Leave me alone.”

It hurts a lot more than Jason thought it would. It feels as if a spike goes through his chest as he watches her walk away. That must have been how she felt a year ago.

“Reyna, I’m sorry!” He calls after her. She just holds her head up high and continues to walk, farther and farther until he can’t see her anymore.

* * *

“Coach, what are you doing?”

Percy waits till everybody is out of the gym to question Chiron. He’s tired, sweaty, and very confused.

“Coach, did you just tell me to sit on the bench during a play rundown?” He exclaims. Chiron has never done that before, not once in Percy’s three years at Oracle Heights High School.

Percy made a mistake. He had just stumbled over a play during practice, that was it, and then Chiron had sent him to the bench. It would have been easier for the older man to correct him, but he benched him for the rest of practice.

“I have to be ready for next week’s game,” Percy says again. Chiron is silent as he watches Percy clean up the gym. 

“You’re not playing next week.”

Percy spins around and lets the ball drop to the floor. His mind blanks at Chiron’s words, he has to be mistaken. There’s  _ no way _ he’s going to bench him.

Chiron folds his arms, looking at his pupil. “Percy, you heard me.”

“It was just one play,” he murmurs, still not believing that Chiron is _actually_ going to bench him. Then he looks him in the eye. “It was just one play, alright? It won’t happen again.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was just one play!” Chiron raises his voice, his dark eyes flashing. “You’re distracted, Percy. You don’t have your head in this.”

Maybe it was overexposure to Rachel Dare, but an image of Troy Bolton flashes through his mind before he pushes it away.

Chiron sits down in his office chair, folding his fingers. “Until you get focused, you’re not playing on Friday. Or any game, for that matter.”

A crushing feeling settles over Percy at the moment. If he doesn’t have basketball, he doesn’t have anything. Chiron  _ knows  _ that, and he’s  _ using  _ that.

“What do you want me to do, then, Coach?” Percy asks. His voice rises an embarrassing octave higher. “Tell me what I should do to get focused! Practice in the morning and an extra after school? I can do that. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Chiron rests his pointer finger on his chin. He glares at Percy, not angrily, but contemplatively. Percy can tell he knows exactly what he wants him to do, though, he just wants to make him nervous.

“You have other  _ activities _ going on at the same time as this season,” Chiron begins. His words are slow and careful. “They’re distracting you, that can't happen. I’ll consider letting you start if you can get yourself focused again.”

He dismisses Percy out of the gym with a nod. As he packs up his stuff, Percy’s numb with shock. He walks home with a weight on his shoulders, a ball of anger and hopelessness settling in his gut.

He knows exactly what Chiron wants, even if he refuses to put it in straightforward language. Chiron wants him to quit the musical.

* * *

Sally’s thoughts are all over the place.

She stares at the open tab on her computer, the white document staring back. It’s an email from a business in Manhattan. They’re a publishing house and looking for an assistant director.

They offered to interview her at their facility. The interview is next week. The real issue is that the interview would be her fifth that week. 

Sally has all the credentials. She has all the experience. She was editor of a magazine before Percy was born. She has a master's degree in English and a bachelor’s in creative writing.

She’s just worried about Percy, as old as he is.  Percy’s entire life is in Oracle Heights. His basketball team, his support system, his  _ everything _ . She doesn’t know if she can strip that from him if they accept her.

Sally also doesn’t know if she can afford to reject such an opportunity. There are choices she has to make, and someone’s livelihood will suffer because of it.

Her phone dings with a text. Percy’s lowercase type tells her he won’t be home till seven. Sally sometimes worries that he spends too much time on school, but she texts her support back anyway.

Then she returns to the email. Her cursor blinks. Sally blinks back. She researches and types and organizes for hours.

She shuts the laptop just as her son opens the door.

Percy looks defeated. His chin drops, his shoulders sag, and his eyes are far away. She frowns.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Sally asks him. He goes to the pantry and opens it. Sally sucks her teeth disapprovingly. “Percy, there’s food in the fridge, eat something proper.”

He closes it wordlessly, a little bit too forcefully to be considered normal. He’s still quiet so Sally waits till he’s ready to speak. He gets like this sometimes, quiet bouts where the world is too overwhelming for him to utter a word.

Percy sits across from her, staring at a blank point in space. Sally types emails, checks out job listings, and other various tasks. Finally, as she presses trash on a spam email, he says something.

“Mom.”

She looks at him in response, her eyebrows slightly raise as she expects the rest. He just stares at her. He takes in her glasses, her computer, and the stack of printed papers and resumes on her desk. Whatever he was going to say to her fades.

“Have you found another job?” He asks. Sally knows he was about to say something else, she knows because of the flash of realization that crosses his face. 

Still, she takes off her glasses and smiles wearily. “I got an interview”

“That’s amazing!” He smiles, brightly and widely, seeming to forget about his previous troubles. “When?”

Sally taps her pen against the table, not knowing how to tell him. “Next week. Actually, I have five interviews next week, back to back. It’s in Manhattan. I might be gone for a week, more or less.”

Percy contemplates her words, his eyes trained on the table. “Have you gotten anything from anywhere closer?”

Sally sighs, “No, I haven’t.”

“Then you have to do it,” he shrugs. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay here and just practice a lot.”

“No, you’ll be staying with your father.” Sally makes up her mind, mentally working out arrangements and errands as she places her glasses back on. “You won’t be staying here alone.”

He frowns sourly. “Mom, I’ll be fine.”

“End of discussion,” she hums. Percy frowns at her for an extra second before lugging his backpack to his room.

“I got homework to do,” he calls out. “I’ll be back.”

* * *

Mitchell stops Malcolm outside the doors.

Malcolm glances at the dark-eyed boy. He takes in his appearance, the blue bomber jacket and a graphic t-shirt with ripped jeans are nice. He tells him that.

“Nice outfit,” Malcolm says calmly. He tries to ignore the way his heart is racing with the intent way Mitchell is looking at him and his hand around his wrist. “You should think about giving me tips.”

Mitchell ignores him and pulls him off to the side. “Why did you leave?”

“I’m back now,” Malcolm shrugs. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because you lied,” Mitchell says. His eyes glance around to make sure nobody’s listening in. “I know there’s another reason why you left Oracle High and I think I know why but I _have_ to hear it from you.”

The blond boy cracks a knuckle, once, twice, buying himself time. “I just had better opportunities at Saint Francis.”

“The truth, Malcolm,” Mitchell scoffs. The use of his full name isn’t lost on him. In fact, it startles him. It also kind of hurts. To have the term “Mal” pour from Mitchell’s lips is something Malcolm’s used to, something he _looks forward_ to. “Malcolm” sounds unusual coming from him.

He better get used to it. He'll be dating Katie in a couple of weeks, then whatever is going on between him and Mitchell can finally stop.

Malcolm stares at him and shakes him off, starting toward his car. “I think you’re confused, Mitchell.”

“Really?” Mitchell follows him into the cold. His voice doesn’t waver as the wind bites his skin. “Because I think  _ you’re  _ confused.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you wanna tell me why you’re suddenly dating Katie Gardner?” Mitchell says louder. Malcolm places a hand on his door and Mitchell steps in front of him, directly. “Because I know it’s not because you think she’s amazing.”

“She  _ is  _ amazing,” Malcolm snaps.  _ And she’s not you _ , he adds silently. “Katie’s great, alright? She’s _great_.”

It sounds unconvincing even to his ears because something is happening to him again. His eyes follow the frosty puffs of breath that come from Mitchell’s lips. They travel up the brown-skinned boy’s face, to his eyes.

Mitchell’s expression softens as he steps back. Malcolm wants to pull him back and it _scares him_.

_ It scares him so much. _

“After you, Your Majesty,” Mitchell mutters softly. He puts his hands up, his cold blank stare burning holes in Malcolm’s eyes. “You can escape if you want to.”


	10. and the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hestia suggests a fundraiser, Leo becomes more at home, and Rachel has her first confrontation with her parents

Chatter fills the air as theatre students settle in auditorium seats, fill out to the wings, and use any space they possibly can. 

Malcolm walks in with Katie. He waves at Hestia and Leo in a friendly manner before following the girl to seats in the back. 

It’s been a couple days since their movie. Malcolm takes in a lot about her in the times they’ve hung out, him initiating an equal amount of times she has. Katie’s shy at first until you get to know her. She can be a little funny, so he tries to laugh at her jokes.

Hopefully, if he spends enough time with her, the things he should be feeling will come.

Malcolm doesn’t know why exactly he’s so intent on making himself like Katie. The determination settled in him after his conversation with Mitchell weeks, and there’s an underlying fear of what might come about if it didn’t work. 

His brain reminds him that he and Mitchell haven’t spoken since that encounter, not unless they have to.

She’s talking about a gardening project she’s recently taken on. Malcolm decides to tune into that, deeming it important for future reference.

She speaks and Malcolm tries to keep up, even when Mitchell walks into the auditorium and his eyes trail after him. 

Thankfully, Hestia’s voice interrupts his thoughts and pulls them onstage. The bright stage lights illuminate the set design model. Hestia introduced it a week ago, and everybody had been on board. Only Piper had raised concerns about the budget and whether or not they would be able to afford it.

Hestia folds her hands as she examines her students. Her gaze is not one of scrutiny, it’s fond and it makes Malcolm smile. 

“As you all know, last week we decided on a set.” Hestia waits for their mutters of confirmation before continuing. “Unfortunately, this specific set would take millions of dollars we do not have. So, I think we should keep inspiration, inspiration and move on to better things.”

She produces a hammer from under the stool the model is set on. She nods at Leo somberly.

Then, Malcolm watches in horror as they smash it to pieces.

The model falls off the stool pathetically after one last blow from Leo’s hammer. Malcolm exchanges a look with Rachel, who has jumped back.

Hestia looks back at her students, her brown eyes flashing excitedly. “We only received fourteen thousand from the board, so we’re down on funds. You all need mic packs, costumes, we need a set, to repair the lightboard. It’ll take money we _don’t_ have.”

A downcast air falls over the stage. Malcolm’s eyes drop to the floor, Rachel sighs. 

“Don’t be discouraged, though,” Hestia stops the pity-party before it can start. She’s moving so fast, Malcolm doesn’t have time to process it all. “We should try a fundraiser, preferably a public service. I was thinking of a bake sale or a car wash? Anything you guys can think of, please tell me. I want to make this production happen, for all of you.”

Malcolm exchanges a glance with Rachel. His mind is already working the minute rehearsal finishes. He wants to help Hestia in any way he can, with everything she’s done for the department.

Hestia begins to walk slowly, examining all their faces. “Please discuss with your families, amongst yourselves, figure something out then talk to me about it next rehearsal.”

Rehearsal continues as normal, although a contemplative air hangs over them as they run through steps and practice scenes. Everybody knows that the theatre department is underfunded; all the money goes to basketball and sports. It’s still unsettling to see the immediate effects.

Rachel is telling him about an art project during a water break when Annabeth stops Rachel. She doesn’t spare Malcolm a glance.

“Gee, thanks, sis,” Malcolm mumbles. Annabeth shoots a glare at him before diverting her attention back to Rachel.

“You and Percy are a thing now, right?” Annabeth raises a blonde eyebrow. Rachel nods warily at the question.

“Yeah, we are, why?” 

Annabeth looks a little bit embarrassed as she says it. Malcolm’s eyes bounce between the two girls.

“He’s a good guy,” the blonde says softly. “And you’re a good girl. I just wanted to say that I hope you guys work out. Really.”

Malcolm expects Rachel to awkwardly turn away and mumble a thanks. Instead, the redhead smiles and pulls Annabeth into a hug.

“Thanks, Annabeth,” she says. “I’m...really sorry if I was ever rude to you before.”

Annabeth returns the hug for a second and nods before rushing away. Malcolm feels like he’s just watched a new timeline unfold.

Of course, as the middleman of their three-year-long feud, he’s grateful, but he’s also shocked as the witness to their _three-year-long feud_.

“What was that?” He near-shouts once rehearsal is over. Rachel rolls her eyes.

“Maturity, maybe you should learn it.”

“Ouch.”

Rachel blows him a raspberry and turns back to her phone as they walk to his car. Malcolm grins slyly.

“So, you and Percy, huh?” A teasing tone laces his words, his voice goes up and down in a sing-song manner. “You forgot to tell me about that.”

Rachel slices a glare at him, but that doesn’t stop the small smile on her lips. “Well, it’s new. We’re not rushing to tell everybody, you know?”

“Wow,” Malcolm quickly glanced at her. He opens the door and starts the engine, humming impressively. “I didn’t know I’d be lumped in with everybody.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not as special as you think you are.”

Malcolm laughs again, long and hardy. Rachel’s smirk almost helps him forget about the theatre, or his mom, or Mitchell. 

Almost.

* * *

Percy isn’t used to the bench.

He hears the shouts of the people in the bleachers, he feels the stomp of feet. It’s deafening, overwhelming, when you’re sitting on the bench and not on the court. 

He watches Michael Kahale pass the ball to Reyna, setting up a perfect two-pointer. He can see the play in action and it kills him that he isn’t a part of it.

Someone slides beside him. He turns to see Rachel, her red hair tied back and a smile on her face.

“You okay?” She asks. Percy shrugs.

“I’m alright.” He looks at her again. “You’re not supposed to be here, you know?”

“I don’t care,” Rachel scoffs. Percy shakes his head with a laugh. 

“Tell me why I knew you’d say that.”

“You’re just _that_ insightful.”

He laughs again. Being with Rachel makes being on the bench a little bit better. He turns around to see his father’s eyes on them, his wife sitting beside him and watching the game.

Rachel follows his gaze before her eyes widen and she turns around. Percy frowns slightly at her reaction.

“What happened?” He asks her. “Did he say something to you?”

Rachel remains quiet for a split second before stuffing her hands in her jean pockets and shrugging. “It’s nothing, Percy.”

“It’s _definitely_ something. What happened?”

Rachel bites her bottom lip, a bad habit. “He just _insinuated_ that I should leave you alone so you can focus on basketball.”

Percy nearly stands up from his spot on the bench. Poseidon had no right to do that, he doesn’t know _anything_ about him. He doesn’t _care_.

Rachel notices the rising indignation and places a hand on his shoulder. She looks him in the eye cooly.

“Percy.” She says evenly. “It’s nothing. I’m _fine_.”

Percy looks into her eyes and decides to believe her. He takes a deep breath, determined not to let his father get to him. His mom is leaving for Manhattan tomorrow, and he’ll have to spend an entire week with the man. He has to at least pretend to like him for his mom.

He feels another pair of eyes on him. He looks over Rachel’s head to see the other benchwarmers sneaking glances at him and Rachel. Percy rolls his eyes and keeps paying attention to the game.

Rachel doesn’t say anything, something Percy is grateful for. Somehow, she always knows the right thing to do. Percy envies her.

He wants to get back on the court. He wants his mom to get a new job, and he wants her to be happy. He wants the musical to succeed, and he wants a scholarship to a good school.

He also doesn’t know how to get any of those things.

* * *

They won the game.

Jason stands outside, waiting to see Reyna with a mason jar full of gourmet jelly beans. If he remembers correctly, Reyna has an obsession with jelly beans. He knows they won’t fix anything between them, he’s just hoping it proves to her that he cares.

Next week will be the last week before Thanksgiving break. Jason remembers when Reyna and Hylla, her older sister, would come over and eat dinner with them. They stopped when they fell out, and the change was noted by Hera, Jason’s stepmother. 

It’s fine, though, because Jason is trying again.

Reyna opens the back gym doors, exactly where Jason knew she would exit from. Her older sister’s arm is slung around her shoulders and they’re both laughing. It takes them a minute to notice him.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly. He mentally curses himself. Reyna’s eyes flicker between him and Hylla. 

Hylla looks him up and down. “Hey, Jason. It’s been a while.”

Jason nods. “It has been a while. I’m...sorry, about that. I was figuring some stuff out and I just…”

He looks at Reyna again and holds the jelly bean jar out to her. She eyes it warily.

“Congratulations on winning the game,” he breathes. Hylla smiles slyly while Reyna looks highly unamused.

“Thanks, Jason,” she says quietly. Frosty plumes of breath escape her lips with the two words. She’s formal and distant, the way a celebrity would greet a fan. Jason nods curtly and turns to go.

She doesn’t try to stop him. Jason guesses he deserves that.

* * *

Hestia hands Dionysus a sketch.

The piece of paper is different from the original set design. It has little odds and ends from around the town, a stack of books in the corner. It looks second-rate and charming.

“This should be the set,” Hestia says. Dionysus makes a show of taking off his reading glasses and inspecting the paper condescendingly. Hestia rolls her eyes at her co-director as she watches him slowly lift an eyebrow.

“It’s a bit... _plain_ ,” he deadpans. Hestia shrugs.

“It’s what we can afford. I happen to think it’s perfect for us.”

“It’s still plain.”

Hestia resists the urge to argue. Dionysus’ desk is a bit more untidy than hers is. There are three empty cans of Diet Coke sitting in various locations, one on top of a book. Hestia moves a little bit to read the spine.

“The Tale of Despereaux,” she whistles appreciatively. “Are you reading it for the first time?”

Dionysus glances at the book, then back at the standing woman. He sighs. “My twins, Castor and Pollux, keep trying to explain this to me. There isn’t a lot of information you can retain from two ADHD thirteen year olds, though, so I picked it up myself.”

Hestia smiles. “That’s nice. I knew you had children, I just didn’t know their ages.”

Dionysus nods, unfamiliar with the personal topic of conversation. He lifts Hestia’s sketch in a mechanical manner and awkwardly states, “I’ll talk to Hephaestus about this. We’ll see what we can do.”

Hestia nods and glances over at his desk one more time before leaving his classroom. There’s a lot she doesn’t expect about him, and there’s a lot to learn.

* * *

Leo’s figured it out.

Or, at least, he _thinks_ he has it figured out.

Hestia wakes up around six thirty every day (even on weekends) to prepare lesson plans. At seven o'clock, he’s woken by the sound of The Bitch Of Living and drags himself downstairs to help with breakfast, even though she insists that he gets ready for school. By seven thirty, he’s out the door.

Back in his old foster homes, Leo never had schedules. Well, there were schedules but not the accidental kinds. Never the ones caused by the friendly routine of another person comfortable enough to have you in their home.

He’s started looking at Hestia’s place as less of a “house” and more of a “home”.

A home where he eats dinner and chats with the coolest lady he’s ever met.

A home where someone always offers him homework help, although he doesn’t need it.

A home where Hestia shouts up the stairs what he would like her to get from the grocery store.

An actual home.

* * *

_They know_.

Once their faces show on her screen, Rachel knows that they know about the musical.

She knew that they would never approve of her performing a musical like Spring Awakening, but she had auditioned anyway. Rachel didn’t think they would care enough to check, but they _did_.

And they’re _mad_.

“What is this?” Her father demands. Rachel resists the urge to cut the call as she looks at the script he’s holding. “Are you in this?”

Rachel puts down the pen she’s holding, trying to gather her patience. “Yes.”

“What role?”

“Wendla.”

Her father looks away, exasperated and angry. Her mother sighs. 

“Rachel, you _cannot_ be in this. Do you know how this makes us look?”

“It’s always about you, huh?” Rachel mutters.

“Don’t give me that tone,” her mother warns. Rachel glares at her phone anyway.

“How can I not?” She exclaims. “It’s always about you. The only reason why you sent me here is because you were ashamed of me. You don’t want me to do something I really want to do because it’ll look bad for you.”

“Rachel, this looks bad for you, too,” Her mother explains. “Colleges will look at this, look at your last name, and reject you.”

“Let them. I’m not gonna be applying to those places anyway.” Rachel picks at her nails. 

“This is bad for our image,” her father cuts in. “You can’t do this play. People will talk, they’ll see your performance and associate it with us.”

“This isn’t about yo-”

“Like hell it is!” Mr. Dare’s voice is loud, even on the other end it startles her. Rachel can feel the tears before they come, but she holds them back. 

“You’re going to quit this.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then we have no choice,” her mother says, folding her hands perfectly. “You will be enrolling in Clarion Ladies Academy.”

“ _No!_ ” Rachel argues back. She’s never going there, she’s not going to let herself go there. “You don’t get to control my life!”

“We’re your parents!”

“You haven’t been my parents since I was five!” She shouts. The overwhelming emotions she’s held down burst out with the words. She can feel hot tears on her cheeks. The silence on her parents’ end is deafening as they stare at her blankly.

She cuts the call.


End file.
